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40 oz FIST
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Your Way of Life
I wage war on your way of life
and every little thing that you are
I'll tear you apart piece by piece
until all that's left are the scars
Treat me like I'm diseased
when the only flaw is you
Fool of backwards morals
Bruises on the fruit
You spit falsehoods in my name
when I'm not around
I'm tired of your games
I'll knock you to the ground
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I wage war on your way of life
and all that you're about
If you don't shut your mouth
I'm gonna knock you out
You act as if you're better
but we all know the truth
You're a spoiled little child
in a bad grown up suit
If your eyes were the window to your soul
your mouth would be your asshole
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