"This is my country and I belong here!
It's my dirt. It's no good... but it's mine. It's mine"
Yo, model '76 skin's been sick since
My oooh so distant first glimpse at existence
Which predates my infant stage when this babe
Was swaddled in crib with baby bottle and bib
And i don't mean sick meaning sick, but i mean sick meaning sinful
Cause Adam and this minstrel are cut from the same stencil
With a sickness so vast that its grasp is past ill
This corpse scores more gore, yet can't afford the bill
Malefactor, benefactor on a dilapidated tractor
Who steady gathers the rotten fruit from the seeds that he's scattered
This barren land demands this cadaver be bruised and battered
Yet strangely enamored to the rattler's mad hatter swagger
So he reaps a heartless harvest
Cause this lethargic carcass
Trades the brilliant sonlight for total darkness
Marches through the marshes
Sowing filth and reaping garbage
Seeking hardship harborage
But drops anchorage in carnage
You reap and sow
To stop the bleeding in your soul
Cultivating famine
To fill a god sized canyon
You keep digging bigger holes
But that don't translate into growth
Choice is guzzle grapes of wrath
Or become fodder for the canon
He white knuckles the shovel
Digs the worms and bugs from hovel
To hollow out the earth to plant and birth a crop of awful
Toiling tilling soil foiled and spilling seeds of sorrow
Backbreaking labor hobbles daily soils the Dei's imago
Fertile ground incurring hate
Buries deep then germinates
Sprouts through underground and bubbles up to surface break
Plows with muzzled oxen
Till they starve and gasp for oxygen
Stomach growls are not corralled by holy cows and toxins
This venomous vermin's working like a beast of burden
Splurging on yearnings
Slurping the slop the serpent's serving
And thinking himself deserving of partaking in the feast
So he sows, reaps, then feeds
And we are what we eat
And he's as grim as the sin within to which he clings
Flings the mud then tries to rinse without blood of king of kings
He swings from limb to limb of his idolatrees
The breed of his diseased h-e-a-r-t
You reap and soul
To stop the bleeding in your soul
Cultivating famine
To fill a god sized canyon
You keep digging bigger holes
But that don't translate into growth
Choice is guzzle grapes of wrath
Or become fodder for the canon
Boot to shovel
Shovel through the muddled rubble
Submerging the seed
To birth a burgeoning emergency
As the wound of every resident keeps festering
I'm questioning; how's that field of dreams that you're invested in?
Boot to shovel
Shovel through the muddled rubble
Submerging the seed
To birth a burgeoning emergency
As the wound of every resident keeps festering
I'm questioning; how's that field of dreams that you're invested in?
Boot to shovel
Shovel through the muddled rubble
Grim Reaper Video (MV)
Apollo Rojas - Grim Reaper Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
"This is my country and I belong here!
It's my dirt. It's no good... but it's mine. It's mine"
Yo, model '76 skin's been sick since
My oooh so distant first glimpse at existence
Which predates my infant stage when this babe
Was swaddled in crib with baby bottle and bib
And i don't mean sick meaning sick, but i mean sick meaning sinful
Cause Adam and this minstrel are cut from the same stencil
With a sickness so vast that its grasp is past ill
This corpse scores more gore, yet can't afford the bill
Malefactor, benefactor on a dilapidated tractor
Who steady gathers the rotten fruit from the seeds that he's scattered
This barren land demands this cadaver be bruised and battered
Yet strangely enamored to the rattler's mad hatter swagger
So he reaps a heartless harvest
Cause this lethargic carcass
Trades the brilliant sonlight for total darkness
Marches through the marshes
Sowing filth and reaping garbage
Seeking hardship harborage
But drops anchorage in carnage
You reap and sow
To stop the bleeding in your soul
Cultivating famine
To fill a god sized canyon
You keep digging bigger holes
But that don't translate into growth
Choice is guzzle grapes of wrath
Or become fodder for the canon
He white knuckles the shovel
Digs the worms and bugs from hovel
To hollow out the earth to plant and birth a crop of awful
Toiling tilling soil foiled and spilling seeds of sorrow
Backbreaking labor hobbles daily soils the Dei's imago
Fertile ground incurring hate
Buries deep then germinates
Sprouts through underground and bubbles up to surface break
Plows with muzzled oxen
Till they starve and gasp for oxygen
Stomach growls are not corralled by holy cows and toxins
This venomous vermin's working like a beast of burden
Splurging on yearnings
Slurping the slop the serpent's serving
And thinking himself deserving of partaking in the feast
So he sows, reaps, then feeds
And we are what we eat
And he's as grim as the sin within to which he clings
Flings the mud then tries to rinse without blood of king of kings
He swings from limb to limb of his idolatrees
The breed of his diseased h-e-a-r-t
You reap and soul
To stop the bleeding in your soul
Cultivating famine
To fill a god sized canyon
You keep digging bigger holes
But that don't translate into growth
Choice is guzzle grapes of wrath
Or become fodder for the canon
Boot to shovel
Shovel through the muddled rubble
Submerging the seed
To birth a burgeoning emergency
As the wound of every resident keeps festering
I'm questioning; how's that field of dreams that you're invested in?
Boot to shovel
Shovel through the muddled rubble
Submerging the seed
To birth a burgeoning emergency
As the wound of every resident keeps festering
I'm questioning; how's that field of dreams that you're invested in?
Boot to shovel
Shovel through the muddled rubble
It's my dirt. It's no good... but it's mine. It's mine"
Yo, model '76 skin's been sick since
My oooh so distant first glimpse at existence
Which predates my infant stage when this babe
Was swaddled in crib with baby bottle and bib
And i don't mean sick meaning sick, but i mean sick meaning sinful
Cause Adam and this minstrel are cut from the same stencil
With a sickness so vast that its grasp is past ill
This corpse scores more gore, yet can't afford the bill
Malefactor, benefactor on a dilapidated tractor
Who steady gathers the rotten fruit from the seeds that he's scattered
This barren land demands this cadaver be bruised and battered
Yet strangely enamored to the rattler's mad hatter swagger
So he reaps a heartless harvest
Cause this lethargic carcass
Trades the brilliant sonlight for total darkness
Marches through the marshes
Sowing filth and reaping garbage
Seeking hardship harborage
But drops anchorage in carnage
You reap and sow
To stop the bleeding in your soul
Cultivating famine
To fill a god sized canyon
You keep digging bigger holes
But that don't translate into growth
Choice is guzzle grapes of wrath
Or become fodder for the canon
He white knuckles the shovel
Digs the worms and bugs from hovel
To hollow out the earth to plant and birth a crop of awful
Toiling tilling soil foiled and spilling seeds of sorrow
Backbreaking labor hobbles daily soils the Dei's imago
Fertile ground incurring hate
Buries deep then germinates
Sprouts through underground and bubbles up to surface break
Plows with muzzled oxen
Till they starve and gasp for oxygen
Stomach growls are not corralled by holy cows and toxins
This venomous vermin's working like a beast of burden
Splurging on yearnings
Slurping the slop the serpent's serving
And thinking himself deserving of partaking in the feast
So he sows, reaps, then feeds
And we are what we eat
And he's as grim as the sin within to which he clings
Flings the mud then tries to rinse without blood of king of kings
He swings from limb to limb of his idolatrees
The breed of his diseased h-e-a-r-t
You reap and soul
To stop the bleeding in your soul
Cultivating famine
To fill a god sized canyon
You keep digging bigger holes
But that don't translate into growth
Choice is guzzle grapes of wrath
Or become fodder for the canon
Boot to shovel
Shovel through the muddled rubble
Submerging the seed
To birth a burgeoning emergency
As the wound of every resident keeps festering
I'm questioning; how's that field of dreams that you're invested in?
Boot to shovel
Shovel through the muddled rubble
Submerging the seed
To birth a burgeoning emergency
As the wound of every resident keeps festering
I'm questioning; how's that field of dreams that you're invested in?
Boot to shovel
Shovel through the muddled rubble
Writer: Apolinar Rojas
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid