调：C major
Verse 1
My chemical imbalances
challenges my morality
The phallus I was bound to be
Crowning me for my prowess
Filling my chalice, your fallacy
My sound cold and callous
Murky and malice, misanthropy
Iron majesty
Moving valiantly through the galaxy
Grant you no amnesty
Ample apathy for your faculty
Crush the canopy of your anatomy
And move on casually
As if nothing consequently
is coming after me
Actually nothing will
While sitting practically still
I still can't be touched
Bountifully skilled, Manichae's ill
I can only vanish, I can't be banished
You can't manage my will
I can't be called average,
I'm past savage
Ravage the field,
these words are the balance
to balance my thrill
My quill lavishly spills,
you treat the phallus like pills,
you look famished and drilled,
moving to damage my kill
You couldn't plan enough
to withstand the advantage I build
I kneel, only to fill the ground
and the mound you conceal,
to wield a sword
Habits allure, but be sure of your
Purely distilled, still to the touch
With no blush, an appeal on the cusp
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