lyrics
Feeling your grip...shake, shift, slip.
Stepping on backs, stick to the plan.
Toeing the line...push, pull, spit.
Nothing but hacks, destined to pass.
You've got a sick, sad way of looking past your reflection.
When the nature is to preserve.
Do the changing winds incite response of regression?
Gotta get what you deserve.
Feeling your grip...shake, shift, slip.
Stepping on backs, stick to the plan.
Toeing the line...push, pull, spit.
Nothing but hacks, but they’ll never last.
The money is king, they pile it up. Pocket to purse, not to disrupt.
Beyond fed, put you to bed, cold hands clutch, better off dead.
Your turn to burn
Test my spirit, try to break my strides.
So this is what it feels like when planets collide?
Point the finger, pass the torch, shift the blame.
Never mattered on an uneven plane.
credits
from
Sorry For Your Loss,
released April 20, 2018
Recorded & Mixed by Jason Bourdeau at drift-productions
Mastered by Alan Douches at West West Side
license
all rights reserved