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From the scrapped album "Psychotropia".

lyrics

It’s time to murk the madness, bury the sadness
Came into a world known to feed off the tragic
Tie together all my habits, silly rabbit
He got his hands caught in oncoming traffic
That’s it, Oedipal conquest in a phallic contest
Havin’ a minor delusional onset
Paranoid, poison destroyer
Arc of the divine blend
Won’t my mind bend? Time shifted narrative
Figureheads blend on the television
Nary to the situation I’m in
Bury this machete deep in my skin
Cut off heads, stupid chickens
Heroin addict, baby junkie salvage
Never met a pill popper who wasn’t a
Charcoal drinking maverick
Tit-for-tat this girl is covered in tats
Holes everywhere she could put a needle at
Saw a track in the palm of her hand
Stigmata, holy hell she’s heaven sent
Children off the cob of Los Angeles
Where the angels are lost, don’t I know it
It’s like the devil got caught in the current
Of a septic tanks way of giving in
Shit storm, still I call myself independent
It’s a way to ignore my smell-o-vision
We’re all just slow walking delusions
Waiting for life to draw us in
Doctors of products, spill my guts
Prescribe me a pill to make life less rough
Help me finally give a fuck
I’ve just gotta get out of this slump

credits

from The E​.​P​.​'s of S​.​A​.​, Vol. 2, released December 20, 2014
Music, lyrics, & vocals: Armando Flores Jr.

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Social Anxiety Los Angeles, California

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