Siddhartha

Buckle your seatbelts, cause we got a long ride ahead

Obligated ritual, so the living may receive the dead

All the rest of his clothes are mixed up with yours

Fold them like it don't mean nothing, of course, of course

There's trouble in the valley now that God has been proven guilty

Just like the master couldn't help but give in for that virgin pussy

He could make you cut out pleasure for pain

But for you he wouldn't do the same, he wouldn't do the same

My mother is singing in a lonely kitchen

Every day everyone should sit, by a creek and listen