P.O.S. - Graves (We Wrote The Book)

The desparation stay-the-same
Grip tight on the riegns
Smoke lights by the chain (I try)
You won't find no let up with my remains
Not caught dead settling
No black sweater, slacks
Or shoes with any pennies in
Ephederine shake
A steady hand ready to drive
Steaks through any blood sucker
Sick of the news?
Eat em up
They cover em up
Like head stones in the fall

We don't stop
Keepin it warm keeping it hot
Treading water in a rising tide
Float on
Ride whatever we on
Gone whenever we wonder
We don't ask why

Correct
The best shoes
The worst steps
An tools to work with
Confused and worthless
Peruse the surface
But don't dig deep enough
They they they turning in they grave
We dig em up and re-arrange
Aim Take em out the way they came
Switch em out the frame
(You) gotta find something else to hang
You didn't get mature you got tame
They ain't the same
Thoughts convertable
That's what I'm on
Keep livin in the box
What is that a Scion?
Cool. It's all fools gold if you ask me
What's the goal fool
Dig deep like six feet

Speak, sleep, teach, retreat, whatever
(Just) don't ask me
I'm busy working with the short hand shovel
Who's willing to pound bloody knuckles
Ready

(It goes)Grave shovel let's get to it
We wrote the book on how to remain truant
We wrote the book on moving the blame do it
We wrote the book on keeping the change
Diggin up graves shovel let's get to it
We wrote the book on how to sustain ruin
We wrote the book on how to remain stupid
We wrote the book on checking your aim
Diggin up graves
Come on (shovel)(shuffle) them bones
We wrote the book on cutting the damn clones
We wrote the book on smashin the damn phone
Getting good second alone
Before diggin up graves
Shovel let's get to it
We wrote the book on moving the blame do it
We wrote the book on civil distain do it
We wrote the book on
Now look at the fame
Diggin up
Graves