December 21, 2012 (aka 911) - written by Deacon Burns.

Racing against the clock waiting for the bomb to drop, no breaks I can't stop
Downward spiral, out of control, got my gun cocked and I'm ready to unload.
Racing against the clock waiting for the bomb to drop, no breaks I can't stop
Downward spiral, out of control, got my gun cocked and I’m ready to unload.

Feel the black embrace of loneliness
Betrayed by friend and foe, I stand alone
For everyman has his own sin to serve
God vs. God as we fight for the thrown
Uneasy lays the head that wears the crown
Ministry of fear and sound
The living envy the dead
Die by your own hands now it's time to drown
Close your eyes to the lies
Fear the suspense living under the rock
Waiting for the bomb to drop
Racing against the clock
Running from cops, no breaks I can't stop
Born to late. I'm an acquired taste held together by spit and tape.
What a waste
Future memory running on empty, moving words on a page that burns.
Stuck in the back of the line waiting my turn.
Self inflicted wounds. I'll never learn
What is life but to swim upstream just to mate and die.
This is all a lie
funny thing about death,
the only thing you get to take with you is your regret
Ain't this a bitch!
Coming up short on the microphone.

Racing against the clock waiting for the bomb to drop, no breaks I can't stop
Downward spiral, out of control, got my gun cocked and I'm ready to unload.
Racing against the clock waiting for the bomb to drop, no breaks I can't stop
Downward spiral, out of control, got my gun cocked and I’m ready to unload.

ready to unload
ready to unload
ready to unload
Unload

Between hanging on and letting go,
Kill yourself just to feel
Struggling to sell oneself without tipping the scale
Being self-indulgent, trapped in a self-hell
How many drugs does it take to solve the same problem?
Always high, I can't tell.
Hoping that it lies at the bottom of a bottle,
Wishing god lives in a needle.
There’s no victims, only volunteers over here
Dear it's simple, blind and pitiful
I don't give a fuck, tell that bitch and her nigga,
Momma, daddy, brother down in Florida
I’m the frustration of a lost generation, drinking brew playing Playstation.
God lives in a television, he smiles at my destruction and sin.
Eat your rotted fruit and wear your tarnished jewels, optimistic fools.
Think you got it bad, it always gets worse
Especially when you're cursed nigga know the rules
Too late, too early, too soon.
I'm a cartoon, animated, illustrated
Un-licked wounds,
World is a tomb trying to keep me incarcerated and isolated.

Racing against the clock waiting for the bomb to drop, no breaks I can't stop
Downward spiral, out of control, got my gun cocked and I'm ready to unload.
Racing against the clock waiting for the bomb to drop, no breaks I can't stop
Downward spiral, out of control, got my gun cocked and I’m ready to unload.

ready to unload
ready to unload
ready to unload
unload