White Powdered Lines

Welcome to the Jungle.
808's and bass are bumping.
Bodies touching, minds corrupting,
Sin's house is full of His destruction.

Hail Mary, Mother of God
Cross my heart and hope to die.
Hidden in her breath it lies.
Tears of salt and white powdered lines.
Honey, crush it right and crush it fine.
The great escape, the master design.

Maybe it will take you four months of decay in an abandoned landfill
to see that bass isn't the only thing that goes bump in the night.
It's all wrong, but the feelings right.
Out of truth and out of sight.

Pills of dust and white lines laid before,
Bodies touch and minds corrupt,
On that jungle dance floor.