Testo Streetside The Obsessed
Streetside
From the corner is where it starts
Torn in half like a dollar bill
Happy mournersâ window heart is
Bitter still
Truthâs fictions stranger than any lie
Smooth convictions danger plan of
Twisted night
Does the pope shit in the wood?
He might be damned hoarding all his ill-got
Goods with Uncle Sam
Greener grass on the comfort side your
Easy choice
Iâm leaning fast into the twisted night
One voice
At the bottomâs where it ends
No between, catch lifeâs riddles fates
Winds send
Depraviteam so low, itâs been real
A total fiend, by his hand a lonely man
Looking for a streetside queen