Boris home alone with his Thoughts, a prophet of sorts
distance from the chorus/toe-to-toe with the courts
former whisky-shorts shooter, born a millitary visionary
addicted to the dictionary he flips to keep his fictions-scary
legendary stories of grinners and serial sinners
gave lost a new meaning loosing sight of what a win-is
however thin-is the thread of the words, I still pass
chernobyl-soviet-hotel suggest guests 'Bring your own mask'
coastal scene on seas of the past, the sickness can last
the cold horizen cuts fictions in half, witness and laugh
needs fitness and fast. police powers gaining support
laws for disproportionate force being backed by the courts
Burning-forecourt style visions of hell, my living is well
Boris isn't Boris now.. you're... beginning to tell
you could almost run a mile in the distance of strong insistance
that caring is a waste of existince, support from statistics
Boris cares about the weight of the system. Respect peaks
dont speak. Boris Funks Fucked. only cares cos he's weak