Testo Metal Fume Fever

I was passed out on the factory floor. I couldn't feel my legs. I couldn't

swallow. I'm burning metal for motherfuckers. I'm making weapons for

southern lovers. I got the fever. Metal fume fever. You might as well do

dope. You're gonna get sick of something nasty out in the modern world.
Doubled over, what kind of cancer did you ask for? It came out of the plant

and into the sky, into your eyes, into your bones, into your homes, into

your skin. You can't wash it off your hands.