Lyrics:
These are my thoughts that have been compressed into the English language.
Nothing I say or even rap can describe my made up anguish.
All that I can say is that my brain is a cluster-fuck.
My cliches are classic rock to the scene so call me Thunderstruck.

Just because I kick it old school doesn't mean I suck.
I know my lyrics are dirty, but I wouldn't call it smut.
I would call it art, but dammit art is hard.
That shit requires heart, but dammit my heart has been scarred.

I've been waiting too long. The time has passed me.
If you wanna know what I'm talking 'bout why don't you ask me?
If I shouldn't be a rapper, then God should recast me.
Until I get a warning, I'll just keep my music blasting.

If God isn't real, then why the hell have you been fasting?
Our views on mythology are clearly quite contrasting.
Man I'm just harrassing. My jokes are outlasting.
Just like me, 'cause I'm a joke. Yes it's me that I'm trashing.

I feel like all I need's a thrashing.
Nothing teaches lessons like getting your ass beat.
Nothing teaches lessons like falling off your last feet.
Nothing teaches lessons like reading notes people pass me.

I'm using all these teachings like advantages amassing.
The tree of knowledge has a gate, but I have the brass key.
I've been rhyming over Chopin 'cause I keep it classy,
and when I'm saying classy, what I'm meaning is that's me.

I calculate so rapidly,
but it's not fast enough for me to express my apathy.
I know I'm always talking like I am in agony,
but really my life is something that I've learned to live passibly.

Passively I will go up. Massively I will blow up.
Laughingly I'll become actively the best I that know of.
I'm always spitting something good, even when I throw up.
I leave you laughing with a stitch in your side you'll have to sew up.

This is tragically classically sad and so blown up.
It's time for me to face up to my problems, but I'm no grown up.
No one's even shown up, to have their hands be thrown up.
I'm more than just stoner. Try to look at me, like close up.

Even through all of that, I am still alone huh?
If I were a part of a group, our parents would disown us.
No organization on the planet would condone us.
That doesn't matter, 'cause I still go through you like Qdoba.

I will never let organization own us.
I pray to the god of the Bible to please atone us.
Sitting up so high in the heavens upon your throne, huh?
Would it be so hard to just throw me the bone you owe us?