Depression grind

Howling at my backdoor part ii

Depression grind

Something's not quite right
my feces black as night
For weeks I yet hide
a rumbling deep inside

Time went by
Haven't found a cure
I cannot stand
More pain to endure

My friends have turned away
I'm sick - they say
A sick situation
only left are flatulations

Day in - day out
My butt spouts out
Mass of rotten stench
All my clothes drenched

Howling at my backdoor
The winds seem to refresh
Howling at my backdoor
I can't hinder all the mash

I shovel my fingers up my ass,
to reduce the pressure
Fuck - no - what a mess
A pile of brown treasures

Floods of excrements
Rain all over me
An awesome experience
Piles of brown is all I see

Howling at my backdoor
The winds seem to refresh
Howling at my backdoor
I can't hinder all the mash

Floods of excrements
rain all over me
An awesome experience
Brown is all I see

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