So now alone within your room, a shadow stirs and looms
Your turntable's spinning backwards, the needles grinding through the grooves.
A malignant cackle echoes, from the speakers vomit spews
Load the bong, spark the flame, inhaling of the fumes
The ceiling starts to bend and warp, it smells of unearthed tomb
Violet light envelops everything, the trip begins for you
You are stoned....to the grave!
Car la vie est un bien perdu quand on n’a pas vécu comme on l’aurait voulu...
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