Temple Run from Zen Motherfucker by Zen Mf

So gentle with your money,
Now the temple is the bank,
And the bank is your honey,
Run, pockets itching, times a ticking,
If bewitchment don't work,
Elbows out get your kicks in,
And time,
Favors felt tip kings with the sickness,
Attracted to gold less than credit,
Need thick skin to witness,
"Fear me!" say the men who burn the trees,
Crunch the numbers into degrees of heat,
And bleed out liberty from beneth your feet.
Run to your ivory tower,
Sour fat man with a tan got a whole lot of power,
Run to your ivory tower,
Don't mind stepping on the flowers.

Run!
Run!
Run!
Run!
To your temple, Run!
To your temple, Run!
To your temple, Run!
To your temple, Run!

• Metal
• eclectic
• psychedelic
• stoner
• stoner doom
• stoner metal
• Oradea