Acid King

The magic is black
 Backyard happy and fertile
 For Kasso the acid king of the black circle
 Same year Bowie dropped, two horns hatched and matured
 To gore Northport's '84
 Here is '84: Mary Lou Retton, Excitebike, AIDS, Jeopardy!
 Wake up the Orwell in me
 Crack rock, anyway - seventeen summers in developing
 Would it be the middle school or ketamine, guess
 Left home in the dark,
 to curl up in a bear hug in Suffolk county's arms
 With a bevy of heavy metal records and leather bibles
 More Anton LaVey than Saint Michael
 More sherm in a Ford on bricks behind Midas
 Fly with the pentagram pilot
 Sabbath and Judas and all tunes prudent
 Seems tame now, but then it was devil music
 Rick six, the nickname clicks
 Makeshift altar in a clearing in the sticks
 Forfeit a kitten by the forks from the kitchen
 With horsemen who drew the same symbols
 Pitchforks waving out a grand theft four by four support system, alas
 Angus on the ax in the back
 Foreground offering a pitch-dark animal corpse and backyard black mass
 And a brash curiosity opt for grave robbery
 To puff and pluck skulls at a cemetery property
 Cops cuff him and stuff him in Amityville Asylum
 It's fantasy island for Noah's Lions, at the time
 South Oaks, but focus on the environment
 And how it couldn't loosen the lucifer out his client who would flee
 Pale moon, pale horse howling death
 And LSD to make it mean more than it meant
 Pay attention - here's where the whole thing sours
 And goes from intrigue into wowzers
 At a party, a passed out drunk Kasso gets got for ten bags of dust
 Now it's not a big town, and people are big mouths
 So he fishes around 'til he figures it out
 Gary Lauwers, seventeen years young, you have no idea what you've done
 Track him down, beat him pissy,
 he got five bags back, still owes him fifty
 Oh Ricky, Ricky,
 do we hound him for loot, or show him how the hellbound do? Hm...
 Kasso waives all debts, says "Let's just go and get baked instead"
 Two shake hands and the beef play dead
 Though it's more like a skeeter shaking a web
 And along came a spider with two of his friends
 It was into the woods, a delusional mess
 Four kids dipped in a black hole bath
 June 16, Kasso snaps
 Off-guard Gary tackled and pinned
 Sees Rick pull a knife from his jacket and grin
 Raise that knife like a sword to the moon
 Plunge that knife through a portrait of youth, going
 "Say you love Satan, say you love Satan"
 Lauwers ain't say it, just cave to the face lift
 Thirty-two stab wounds, gouged out eyes
 Burns on his skin, not a cloud in the sky
 Kasso had later explained he was told
 by Satan himself in the form of a crow
 To murder the kid cold, a part of a pristine whole
 No, no, no, no, no
 And just had to brag, until somebody sad just had to rat
 Sat in the cell is a merchant of hate,
 who would hang from his sheet before the third day
 Some say Kasso was part of a cult,
 but I'm sure there was more than we're told
 More than adults and authority could rightly decode
 Or maybe I'm wrong and he's finally home
 Kasso
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 
 The magic is black
 Backyard happy and fertile
 For Kasso the acid king of the black circle
 Same year Bowie dropped, two horns hatched and matured
 To gore Northport's '84
 Here is '84: Mary Lou Retton, Excitebike, AIDS, Jeopardy!
 Wake up the Orwell in me
 Crack rock, anyway - seventeen summers in developing
 Would it be the middle school or ketamine, guess
 Left home in the dark,
 to curl up in a bear hug in Suffolk county's arms
 With a bevy of heavy metal records and leather bibles
 More Anton LaVey than Saint Michael
 More sherm in a Ford on bricks behind Midas
 Fly with the pentagram pilot
 Sabbath and Judas and all tunes prudent
 Seems tame now, but then it was devil music
 Rick six, the nickname clicks
 Makeshift altar in a clearing in the sticks
 Forfeit a kitten by the forks from the kitchen
 With horsemen who drew the same symbols
 Pitchforks waving out a grand theft four by four support system, alas
 Angus on the ax in the back
 Foreground offering a pitch-dark animal corpse and backyard black mass
 And a brash curiosity opt for grave robbery
 To puff and pluck skulls at a cemetery property
 Cops cuff him and stuff him in Amityville Asylum
 It's fantasy island for Noah's Lions, at the time
 South Oaks, but focus on the environment
 And how it couldn't loosen the lucifer out his client who would flee
 Pale moon, pale horse howling death
 And LSD to make it mean more than it meant
 Pay attention - here's where the whole thing sours
 And goes from intrigue into wowzers
 At a party, a passed out drunk Kasso gets got for ten bags of dust
 Now it's not a big town, and people are big mouths
 So he fishes around 'til he figures it out
 Gary Lauwers, seventeen years young, you have no idea what you've done
 Track him down, beat him pissy,
 he got five bags back, still owes him fifty
 Oh Ricky, Ricky,
 do we hound him for loot, or show him how the hellbound do? Hm...
 Kasso waives all debts, says "Let's just go and get baked instead"
 Two shake hands and the beef play dead
 Though it's more like a skeeter shaking a web
 And along came a spider with two of his friends
 It was into the woods, a delusional mess
 Four kids dipped in a black hole bath
 June 16, Kasso snaps
 Off-guard Gary tackled and pinned
 Sees Rick pull a knife from his jacket and grin
 Raise that knife like a sword to the moon
 Plunge that knife through a portrait of youth, going
 "Say you love Satan, say you love Satan"
 Lauwers ain't say it, just cave to the face lift
 Thirty-two stab wounds, gouged out eyes
 Burns on his skin, not a cloud in the sky
 Kasso had later explained he was told
 by Satan himself in the form of a crow
 To murder the kid cold, a part of a pristine whole
 No, no, no, no, no
 And just had to brag, until somebody sad just had to rat
 Sat in the cell is a merchant of hate,
 who would hang from his sheet before the third day
 Some say Kasso was part of a cult,
 but I'm sure there was more than we're told
 More than adults and authority could rightly decode
 Or maybe I'm wrong and he's finally home
 Kasso
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 
 The magic is black
 Backyard happy and fertile
 For Kasso the acid king of the black circle
 Same year Bowie dropped, two horns hatched and matured
 To gore Northport's '84
 Here is '84: Mary Lou Retton, Excitebike, AIDS, Jeopardy!
 Wake up the Orwell in me
 Crack rock, anyway - seventeen summers in developing
 Would it be the middle school or ketamine, guess
 Left home in the dark,
 to curl up in a bear hug in Suffolk county's arms
 With a bevy of heavy metal records and leather bibles
 More Anton LaVey than Saint Michael
 More sherm in a Ford on bricks behind Midas
 Fly with the pentagram pilot
 Sabbath and Judas and all tunes prudent
 Seems tame now, but then it was devil music
 Rick six, the nickname clicks
 Makeshift altar in a clearing in the sticks
 Forfeit a kitten by the forks from the kitchen
 With horsemen who drew the same symbols
 Pitchforks waving out a grand theft four by four support system, alas
 Angus on the ax in the back
 Foreground offering a pitch-dark animal corpse and backyard black mass
 And a brash curiosity opt for grave robbery
 To puff and pluck skulls at a cemetery property
 Cops cuff him and stuff him in Amityville Asylum
 It's fantasy island for Noah's Lions, at the time
 South Oaks, but focus on the environment
 And how it couldn't loosen the lucifer out his client who would flee
 Pale moon, pale horse howling death
 And LSD to make it mean more than it meant
 Pay attention - here's where the whole thing sours
 And goes from intrigue into wowzers
 At a party, a passed out drunk Kasso gets got for ten bags of dust
 Now it's not a big town, and people are big mouths
 So he fishes around 'til he figures it out
 Gary Lauwers, seventeen years young, you have no idea what you've done
 Track him down, beat him pissy,
 he got five bags back, still owes him fifty
 Oh Ricky, Ricky,
 do we hound him for loot, or show him how the hellbound do? Hm...
 Kasso waives all debts, says "Let's just go and get baked instead"
 Two shake hands and the beef play dead
 Though it's more like a skeeter shaking a web
 And along came a spider with two of his friends
 It was into the woods, a delusional mess
 Four kids dipped in a black hole bath
 June 16, Kasso snaps
 Off-guard Gary tackled and pinned
 Sees Rick pull a knife from his jacket and grin
 Raise that knife like a sword to the moon
 Plunge that knife through a portrait of youth, going
 "Say you love Satan, say you love Satan"
 Lauwers ain't say it, just cave to the face lift
 Thirty-two stab wounds, gouged out eyes
 Burns on his skin, not a cloud in the sky
 Kasso had later explained he was told
 by Satan himself in the form of a crow
 To murder the kid cold, a part of a pristine whole
 No, no, no, no, no
 And just had to brag, until somebody sad just had to rat
 Sat in the cell is a merchant of hate,
 who would hang from his sheet before the third day
 Some say Kasso was part of a cult,
 but I'm sure there was more than we're told
 More than adults and authority could rightly decode
 Or maybe I'm wrong and he's finally home
 Kasso
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you
 It's starting to feel like a nice night
 Hold close to the highs and the white light
 Hold close to the good you are drawn to
 These woods were grown to disarm you