Track 5 - The Soup - Verse 2

"Winter in the shit, pinner in his lip

W-w-winner, winner TV dinner kids, git 'er did

Treasure map full of pushpins, leather on his hoof since

Seven-six, never with a second set of footprints

Lone deathworm, spinning in a Deicide time lapse

Freedom fighter, feed a biter Zweiback dry

Real Earth hides in the syntax

Even if you don't take kindly to riff-raff (We do)

Boneheads illustrate a vessel to believe through

Nestled by the free green pea soup special

One for the mutts that walk three feet in front of their gut

Sipping mush out of cups

And still drag drills to the dig site, no way

No gray hairs, only silver pinstripes

Pills in the palms of a million dendrites

Just about sick of this buildings insides"