Текст песни Good Lord - Rural Internet

Depressed in the folds so I question my role
In the life that I chose, there's recessions and holes
That bite like a spider infesting my pores
The embrace has been tight but I got seconds more
Breath has been leaving I'm dead on the floor
Dressed in a sequins, last of a sequence
Fast young deaths, is what they adore
This own depression has left me so sore
Rich lining up to behead all the poor
Poison processed from the breasts of a four
Legged, beast only born so we ingest its corpse
Heart's gone my brain can't protect anymore
Cholesterol's battle and they won the war
The rest can't be expressed by metaphors
'Cause you buy from a butcher bringing death to your door

Too much good is a bad thing
And too much bad ain't enough
Still don't know where my foot goes halfway to death on a pathway to dust
Time made scabs out of blood
Made me to the man that I thought that I was
In a world full of fuck
No vice is a crutch
All life gonna die A.I. gonna rust
So it's life or its bust
Took pints of the mud
Like a knife in the gut
Don't like what it does
But I like how it feels
And it might be real
Or it might be us
I don't know anymore
But I guess when it rains then it pours
And I guess that their faces have formed
In the hatred and fake shit
The day that I came through the door
Good lord

They wanna fill you with stress and remorse
Go with the flow and you'll find a course
Guess instead I'll see my death like the pope
Nailed from my arms by the cross in the roads
One foot through the gates, one foot in the coals
Worst thing I could do is just say that I told
Hanging right here in place til I'm old
One path painted piss one path plated gold
One leads to abyss, one leads to the throne
But there is a twist, which is which no-one knows
Life's looking colder then a midnight's summer
I fawn and beyond through the late night blunders
I got stage fright but hand-glide for Shakespeare
Through the late night I claimed that I ain't here
Takes grain and the age just to make beer
And greats shift my loins to a satyr's

Too much good is a bad thing
And too much bad ain't enough
Still don't know where my foot goes halfway to death on a pathway to dust
Time made scabs out of blood
Made me to the man that I thought that I was
In a world full of fuck
No vice is a crutch
All life gonna die A.I. gonna rust

I know your touch
It all brings rust
I don't know where it could go for us
Sure we have lust
But that's enough
My life's inside of your own clutch