We were 24 minutes outside Enfield when the drugs kicked in

D to the E to the A-T-H Boy
fucking with your readin’ like book of Tolstoy
insisting on your conscience like a nicotine addiction
pushing out my problems like a terminal affliction

I’m wrecking ‘cos I’m buzzing
with my introspection, cussing
I have to shout loud
‘cos the dissonance is crushing

Once again, the Reverend Eris is back again
With his head in the speaker stack again
On the mic, talking all that crap again
Asking you all to cut me slack again

Still searching for the unified theory of Me
Still rolling with the 23
With my head in the clouds
Far away from the malady clouds

Never gonna be all the things that I wanna be
I keep engendering a deficit of empathy
but when I’m rollin with my boys from the wasp factory
I know I gotta put my confidence in 23

I did my own head in and now I’m gonna do yours
kicking our psychology and laughing at our flaws
and all the alcohol is bleeding out from the pores
and all the Line-out haters, well you’re gonna get yours

Known to my parents as Mark Firman
You didn’t know I could rap, but now you’re learning
About all the bridges that I’m burning

I never kick it off
I never get involved
I never realise
it never did get solved

One, two, I’m not like you
Three, four, on the cold, hard floor,
Five, six, with a tough remix