agogo’s bible Songtext
von Teether

Swore to Rod I′d get my knowledge up
Some of us prone to catch the alcoholic bug
Run amok, shrugging off all sorts of formulas
Trying to sum it up, baffled like the audience
Gavel on the podium
Gravel in my palm as a reminder that I'm only flesh
You might be sick of going there
But God won′t let you in unless you're born correct Some would call it opulence
Got some friction burns from over-ponderance
The irony of isolating deep within the populace
And how it's more ethical to rack the beef sausages
Some would say it′s obvious
I would say it′s over, but
Then again, I co-depend
You can smell it on my breath


Posture like a cobra
On the edge, looking over
Jelly legs but I'm posted
Felt my head hang lower

Posture like a cobra
On the edge, looking over
Jelly legs but I′m posted
Felt my head hang lower