Gray matter

You got a mind But even that can change You can flip the gray matter like some batter in your brain… That’s why they say…

We are being sodomized by repetition Dark gray matter of fact sky Nannies are nights with our half sister moon

This here is tonight’s full-course meal Just like a proposal Protruding gray matter melon bread Garnished with an edict for an exotic feeling

Glitch on the head, I'm in your internet The empty body, the matter burns The black boxes full of gray matter I doubted so I pulled his horns

Slurred oaths in redblue light, Equilibrium at 40%, Gray matter in a soft explosion, Visions of sunup and sundown.

Bring me the wine And the cold night air to clear my head Gray matter memory house Master of this trembling flesh

Imagination, he's the smartest Robert Williams, stroke and splatter I attest to your gray matter Living kings how true it rings

Forget mathematical equations Self help psychology Gray matter don't matter much darlin' When it's gettin' down to you and me

[Verse 2] Climb my DNA ladder find a piece of gray matter Dr Jeckyll Mr. Hyde & seek a piece of pain management

Synapses burning There's no turning back My gray matter slowly Fades into black

Enter the Opera Gray matter rot, a voracious plot No voice of reason, it pertains to treason

A lost cause, a wasted battle Look at me, can you see? The pink scars within gray matter

I, being the judge of this legal court Motion for the accused to arise Stand up, boy, here's the end of your life Now all be in awe of my upper hand

No petals No introduction Gray matter For introspection

a thought: a continuation of a parallelogram or a rectangle by means—as Clausewitz would have put it— of the voice and, ultimately, the gray matter. Ah, shrunken to the size of a brain-cell parlor

Once was good runs empty in me Whom I step on doesn't matter Venom bleeds from my gray matter Sitting on my throne of success

Our flesh burns in mysterious ways Gray matter is the unholy clay of our address on Earth Frontiers are coming down between body and the soul

Exiled To A Pernicious Wasteland My Gray Matter A Thirst Compelled To Restore My Deathcamp

Trust me, I don't say it's Patrick. If you take it, you're gonna have it in mind. Sheets of white linen leave a face of concern in the depots of our gray matter. Never mind, jet lag, isn't time to tell us, to help us.

Contesting, detesting, osmosis of the damned The falling of the hammer The metamorphosis of my gray matter A lucid interlude to the decaying of man