47 Hours

Take a thousand razor blades and press em in they flesh

Drag em by the skull and in the dungeon nothing left

Thirty deadly hours and I still ain't getting rest

Take my pitchfork out the fire soak it in they chest

Slow mo is the dialogue, hear it in your conscious

As your body tries to fight it off

Up in the air with some thunder throwing lightning rods

Set eternal fire on this land might be through it all

At the end of the night, such a scary fucking sight

Yung Euphoria is marching through the village with a scythe

Anytime, anyplace, tend to rip off all the face