paroles de chanson WITCHING HOUR (feat. Seuss Mace) - Curtis Foster

Have you ever had a nightmare?
Wake up in the middle of the night
To see the devil right there with his eyes flared? (No!)
Terrifying sight that'll give you white hair
Sleep paralysis don't care a bit if you fidget and give a fight, yeah
Hallucinate you spraying the room you stay in with luminol
Illuminate abhorrent amount of gore that consume the walls
Diffuse the rate you takin' in oxygen, need Albuterol
Mutilation takin' place whether you want it to or not, uh
Chant and repeat after me
Bloody Mary, say it one, two, three
Times 'til ya fashion a grin with a chelsea smile
And pay a quick little visit down to hell for a while
Wanna see the tragicest magic trick?
Abra cadaver! That's a family vanishing (Haha)
And they ain't coming back, no resurrecting like Lazarus
I stalk homes for a living, yeah the syndrome is hazardous

I be in the throng of occult phenomenon
Now I'm making conversation with the posters on my wall
Fucked around and I found out
When it hopped outta the necronomicon
Better bow down when the dark clouds
Cover downtown putting hexes on ya now

I'm kissing the devil coochie, finger in her ass
I love the sight of human flesh ripped by glass
I'll stalk a motherfucker while they on they way to work
Jump out a bush sweating like a hog in a skirt
Cut his fucking throat and drink the blood while it squirts
Lay down and mimic the way his body frantically jerks on the pavement
Blood soaked running home to the sound of ravens
High off of homicide, feeling my heart racing
Inspired by Michael Myers, Leatherface, and Jason
Fucking dead bodies, Formaldehyde on my apron
It was a graveyard smash
Burn a corpse and leave a yard full of bone and ash
I'mma mash a mothafucka because I'm a freak
Eating your post-death defecation right out your cheeks
Leave your mom's feet swinging, I'm a fuckin' street demon
Trick I don't treat this Halloween season

I be in the throng of occult phenomenon
Now I'm making conversation with the posters on my wall
Fucked around and I found out
When it hopped outta the necronomicon
Better bow down when the dark clouds
Cover downtown putting hexes on ya now

Shit seem like it's something outta Stephen King
I'm recording it of course, check the EVP
Skeevy things between these dreams, swear I'm seeing things
Like I'm constantly on PCP
Reality is skipping like a DVD
Tryna hit my head to reset it like old TV screens
But I'd never forget it, what a creepy scene
When it's floating above the bedspread at 3 in the
AM creating mayhem with a red paint can
Writing Satan's name in my basement
In the middle of a pentagram with a severed hand
And a letter written by the son of Sam all arranged in
A circle, candle wax with a lit wick
A bracelet 'n lipstick
I'm chained by my ankles and wrists, I can't move an inch, shit
Haunted by a spirit that's anachronistic
I'mma have to sage the place 'til Casper's evicted

I be in the throng of occult phenomenon
Now I'm making conversation with the posters on my wall
Fucked around and I found out
When it hopped outta the necronomicon
Better bow down when the dark clouds
Cover downtown putting hexes on ya now

I be in the throng of occult phenomenon
Now I'm making conversation with the posters on my wall
I be in the throng of occult phenomenon
Fucked around and I found out
When it hopped outta the necronomicon