You want a blue sky, how provincial
Focus the dead eye upon the guard of the liars
Kinetoscoping not to fear a thing
Not anacondas under the cover of liars

Poseying in prose again
Mount Toby friends are make pretend
Never offered cover model jobs outside of Factory Hollow
So I’m the god of the liars

A truss construction never fears a thing
Look through the onion
Skin under the guard of the liars
New position minus friction
X-game starlet earns the mention

(yeah yeah yeah)
No-way ticket trained in consent
Kissing cousins’ train’s a-coming
Puff puff
Now I’m the god of the liars
(yeah yeah yeah)