Fireplace Paroles

You down Belmont Ave
And threw your body in his fireplace

I get high off the thought of you on fire
I don't know why, but it's true
You must be a special kinda stupid
You can't see all that you've ruined

I hate your brain
If you even got one, it's such a shame
You're gonna make a great filet
On a tray at the murderer's buffet
And I hate everything you say
You're such an asshole, were you born that way?
I don't know how you made it to this age
But now you're up in flames

I get high off the thought of you on fire
I don't know why, but it's true
You must be a special kinda stupid Maybe it'll change you
And we'll get along well
But for now I find
Comfort in my mind
Thinking 'bout you inside
The fireplace of that guy

I hate your guts
Wouldn't even help if you were stuck
In some guy's basement
And he was getting ready to chop you up

I get high
I get high
I get high
I get high

I get high off the thought of you on fire
It makes me smile when I feel blue
All those shitty things you've done that I'll remember
When he's coming after you