well just how unfortunate is he?
cursed by a gypsy, inside of his minds a design meant for Ripley's
righteous & ripping
signs of an Einstein's mind, ill & sickly reminds of a young king
in the cave where he's forced to remain
a slave to the beats & the spoils of the game
he drowns in medusas, sleeps with sirens
he commands you to listen, but in his mind is
turmoil unseen-the more bad dreams
that he has about not having things makes him fiend
seems life will never perk up
but our hero will fight through the hydras, whole armies he'll murder
inhaling the bourbon, & sailing the wondrous seas in search of his purpose
tell me do you believe in ghosts in machines, well i do
leave your ipod on when you sleep 7 they'll find you