icarus in the sun

you dress yourself in satin but your style is pure tat

you think that you are super fly, that you are where it's at

but with due consideration let me present the facts

you wouldn't even know the truth if the truth ate your hat.

you move around the city like some aging floor show host

without a shred of common sense you idly like to boast

about your bodouir conquests, notched onto your bed post

but the truth still remains the same, your bread is just burnt toast.

i've watched you now for oh so long, i've seen your rusty wit

destroy those you claim to love and make them feel like shit

you use your tongue with brutish skill, a razor blade to slit

the white little virgin throats that present another hit.

but before you flee or run away let me finish whats begun

you're nothing but a little man armed with a big mans gun

you've made your mark on society and you've had your bit of fun

you're nothing but feathers and glue, like icarus in the sun.

keep your underwear clean and fresh in case you ever enter Ritual Acts with Penquins

words by cocaine jesus