Kid kid kid, damn kid!

Dadaist kid, DAMN!

What a sad lot a bad lot of lambs to the

slaughter fish fighting water caught by

thoughts lost in dark daze so costly

boredom feigns pain coaxes piece to meek

veins drugs meet weak blood & a blue

brain a cranium all dumbfounded pounded

hounded by coke smack weed dope speed

crack & chicken scratch you can�t just snap

back from step back from the black the

white & grey faces with traces of hatred

from defaming grace aggravating the

sacred chasing the spirit

shuffling along pacing between dusk &

dawn & afternoons wasting away racing to

the grave saviors the few reainders of

this lame high fashion deathstyle game.

Kid kid kid, damn kid!

Damned kid, Dadaist!

Don�t fall under the same sick spell

I just fell from

Face forward run

Tame yrself train yrself
Maintain yrself

Play what you�ve been dealt with the hand of health
Perfect health