Joseph Hooligan - Fat Witch

How low can you go
In this matchbook limbo
In this scratch them sniff them
And feel indifferent
And see the sun

Fee fi fum
It’s easier with a gun
Presence doesn’t matter
When the instinct scatters
And the scent is gone

Who dare approaches me
I am the serpentine
If you’ve sent me to the hades then who made these
Flashes
Came in batches
Gun

Sweet sensation
Distilled tastebuds
Drowsy overtime
Still gave them to the wire
Sincere the sire

Feasting on them
Those wicked omen
They’re lined up towed and
Bestowed unto thee
Well drown me

Who doesn’t like what they see
Skepticism isn’t free, no That’s not me
So consider it to be
The tailgate poser
It’s getting closer
To frown upon you
And turn society

Fee fi fum