bleed liquid gold and slur speech in a cryptic code My feet slipping on this twisted road Only the mystic knows the lone figure in the distance No bigger than the sum of his inscriptions Or the extent of his conviction I sip vitamin enriched liquid diction And digest fiction for culture I'm force fed, behold the monster My head and it connected by bulb Tryna hold things together like the skins I fold And take my food for thought with a pinch of salt Read more on Last.fm