The Garden - Stylish Spit

Yeah

Swing, swing, swing yourself, spit like a scorpion
Get the nearest chump wet, feed him to your poison
Swing, swing, swing yourself, spit like a scorpion
Get the nearest chump wet, feed him to your poison
Swing, swing, swing yourself
Spit like a scorpion
Get the nearest chump wet
Feed him to your poison

You wanna take my word
I don't have any words to give ya
I can't paint you a pretty picture
You're either walking in the gutters or they're coming to get ya
But life can be so sweet
It can take you on the road to the highest peak
No direction, no destination
Just buy yourself a ticket to the nearest station

Swing, swing, swing yourself, spit like a scorpion
Get the nearest chump wet, feed him to your poison
Swing, swing, swing yourself, spit like a scorpion
Get the nearest chump wet, feed him to your poison
Swing, swing, swing yourself
Spit like a scorpion
Get the nearest chump wet
Feed him to your poison

Mind my own business every single month
Head down, walking quick, the fuck's he running from?
Politician smiling hard standing by a cop
Hammer's hitting hard, when the hell's he gonna drop?
Sometimes it feels like I'm looking around for something white
In a bottle of milk middle of the night
Pitch black semi truck stuck on moving back
Words, navigation when I'm loosing

In the long run, I can only listen
I've been granted with the end of the rainbow
So to speak about troubles that I've never really had seems bleak
So I think about today every single week
Putting on shoes of a different size
Can make you wake up so you realize
That your current situation seems pretty ideal
My current situation has mass appeal

Hoping for the moment 'cause the future's on fire
'Til you put it out you won't see nothing but the flames gettin' higher
Flames gettin' higher

Written by:
Fletcher Steven Shears, Wyatt James Shears

Publisher:
Lyrics © Songtrust Ave, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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