Satyr's Crown from Possession by Cousin Boneless

Wheels dead spun in the same mud rut
Poison trickles up to my head from my gut
Nerves gun shot fathers blood clot rotting in my veins
Robbed of my will doomed to fulfill my genetic fate
Wild’s call comes canned from a cold steel vat
Howl to a neon moon then collapse on plastic grass
Rail tire fires heaps of tires and a bed of broken glass
Awaken to this fever dream keep picking these old sickly scabs

And if I am destined for this half life of decay
I'll Leave a trail of desolate mirth in my wake
Paragon of vice, lay the satyr's crown on my brow
Every drink an oath, every toke a vow

• Punk
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• Pittsburgh