Terminal Disease

In the black of the night There's somethin' waiting there to ba-ba-ba-bite There's somethin' waiting in the shadows And their looks for you to follow The mystery creates a fog Not even movement's separated My pivotal knowledge is outdated I wear my brain dead on my feet Built tough! Road-tested, professional terminal disease Built tough! Road-tested, professional terminal disease I'll pull the trigger on four It's not that hard to see you're dangerous If I had hours I would fill no threat I'd pick the locks on five Out in a hidden space on fire It's really hard to see the look that shines The thoughts you thought oh baby forget them Coz drinks and salads never mix Tonight your skin is kinda white You know you'll never ever cure it So bite down your bottom lip So bite down your bottom lip And when you're feeling kinda queasy And your eyes begin to shut down The moon is shining it on your path I wear my brain dead on my sleeve Built tough! Road-tested, professional terminal disease Built tough! Road-tested, professional terminal disease