Pray To The Junkiemaker Lyrics - The Reality Of My Surroundings - Fishbone

Pray to the Junkiemaker through all types of weather 

You will be a slave to the Junkiemaker forever 

Fiend for the means while it taxes your mind 

You're on the road to the Tombstone Commode 

Fiend like a hype as you suck the glass pipe 

Your soul is cast into a Hellish hole 

And as you're on your knees tryin to feed your disease 

The Monkey's on your back got you, beggin' please 

Pray to the Junkiemaker 

Take a hit wit yer lips 

Pray to the Junkiemaker, WHOA 

You're jaded the light you no longer see 

Burned out, broke down in your misery 

Drop to less, you'll soon confess and assume the position 

Constipated asphyxiated concludes in Purgatory as stated 

Pray to the Junkiemaker 

Pray to the Junkiemaker 

It's the death ticket, Can I get a witness 

Pray to the Junkiemaker 

Take a hit, Wit yer lips 

Pray to the Junkiemaker 

OOOOOOOOOH, WHOAH 

Pray to the Junkiemaker 

Take a hit, sit and piss 

Pray to the Junkiemaker 

I ain't talkin' 'bout a physical addiction but a mental spell 

It's a moral to this story so listen well 

I relate the life I live in full of shit and sometimes Hell 

And you will see that the pipe is your reality 

Pray to the Junkiemaker 

Surrounded by mental shitty 

Mental shitty in the city YEH 

Pray to the Junkiemaker 

And you will find you'll be a junkie with a zombie mind 

Suck the pipe, take your life and you will die 

All because you wanted to get high 

YEH 

In a cold sweat you will 

In a deep need you will 

In the rock house you will 

With a dick in your mouth you will 

In a mental rage you will 

When your body craves you will 

Demonic let's make a deal 

In the hospital you will 

P.M.R.C. you must be 

In the business office you will 

In the limousine you will 

In the White House in a 

In the school house you will 

In the church house you will Yes 

In the police station they do 

Shippin' to the ghetto you Devils 

As long as you're married you will 

Rocked up in the kitchen you're trippin' 

Sellin' your child for the rock pile 

In a straight jacket in a 

Forced for a divorce of course 

In the jail house you will 

Way black in the plantation 

Trippin' in the bum bus station 

Mental m, m, masturbation 

50 Skylab Station 

And the astronauts got to cop 

Killin' off the brothers and sistahs 

Twitchin' down six feet under 

Crack gettin' under my dunder 

Mr. Lucifer him chuckle 

Mankind under his buckle