Bottom Feeder Lyrics
Long walks with my temper take me down a dead end street in contemplation;
Where do we start at the end?
Before i could collect myself,
I'm vacuumed n by a figure's armspread with fiery gasps of iron air,
Cornered in my circle of friends.
Won't he speak to you?
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Emptied on the floor were the shells of my defenses,
Placing his own bullets of condescendence.
Those people shafted me of my social weaponry.
