Atmosphere, it's just a ten letter word Discretion is the name of my cement feathered bird And if you didn't hear, then fuck whatever's heard I think you got the sickness, I suggest you get it cured Caught up in the mix of a bottle full of fix I'ma hobble down the street till I reach Knob Creek It's not that I dont like you, I just dont want to speak You fucking freak, now keep your days out my week The world keeps a balance, through mathematics Defined by whatever you've added and subtracted I'm pushin on the hammer to trigger the brain Embrace how I live, cause God loves ugly