This is a song about "The lodge"

Where the fuck the chorus

Always knew where the pot was

So don't follow me home

As the king upon the throne

Inside my heads telling me evil thoughts

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

To get it in, any minute, i'll be hit with a stare

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

Get grand slam fans out of they seats

Thinkin of the the dreams

Be the lion of the zoo be the glue of the bottle be the air of the world,

I surely don't, so get off your high horse before you get impaled and feel the wrath of my worst

Down the street to the car,

With the goons i spar

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

They gotta like a nigga, call me obama