Comrade. Somebody. Meet me at New Mexico.
Through the valley, of the shadow, and life. Oh, comrade. A dying saint.
Lucifer has captured me. Echo, abyssal, and oblivion.
Today, let me know. Progression, evolution.
To the death, is life. The whimsical and enchanted lost people.
My name is Morlock, but I am dead. The undead. Resuscitation.
The power, the sands of hell. Contort reality like a space wormhole.
In a world to conquer our fantasy. Here, in the mystery.
What’s going to happen, I don’t know, from where I am.
Yo, second hit it.
Let’s go, we gonna roll. Can we rock and roll.
One day, may I scream, I don’t need a micro.
Heal, take me to the express way. Sit by the fire.
Let’s go, I’ll meet you in New Mexico. Make our way to the clear water.
Unchain this … melody. The hidden garden. The wagon. Our sacred baggage.
The secret sound, an unbloomed flower.
Hurry, in three year we can kiss goodbye. By muscle-car or airplane.
On our journey. Once I can go undercover. We gonna hit up Clutchy.
Yo, can you dig it.
In the hands of faith is the magic card.
A dying star, succumb to explosion.
A butterfly. It’s wings, like a cosmic blast.
Spitting my heart, a hundred-thousand with Hopkins.
Homegrown vast, monster SoCal.
If by then still not a barren waste land.
The music awaits for the voice. Celestial.
Grace, I am not Lucifer. Jesus, your blood.
The world, what in the f—— incarnation.
Run away, little generation if you hear. Run away.
The world is a body with no head, a demonic monster.
Contra with our power guns. Run away, I want to come back.
The gateway number is thirteen.