Delicious

Not a matter of pleasure But the assumption of death The dream will die If they open they're eyes May I say something No that's fine Wine and dine me Take me out to dinner The viscosity of this mixture Sticks to the bones like butter Harvest my insides My emotion worth money My degradation worth money Currency in head games Blank checks are a blank soul Matter of fact is a matter of business Eat away at your placard On your desk That's not your name You have no name Eat this Shoot this up You want it inside Ready to clean Delicious