You Can’t Get Goose Justice in a Fox Court, Just Spit on the Judge

I’m trying to kill the son
When I should kill the God

Wait, they say
The serpent’s tirade ended
Wait, they say
Our love line is sick, someone blame

Tear out the values and aim
That’s the righteous

I’m in a car crash and I can’t keep track of the motion
Some of the faces, I guess they know what I mean but they don’t really get it anymore
I started to write down words and I guess I lost track of what they meant
It’s okay, I never really cared much anyways
All the souls cry out like a ringing telephone and I can’t keep track of who wants to know anything anymore
I guess… I guess I’ll never find out