A weird, short song about a bag of old socks my family used to have.
hiphop
rap
beats
christian
thumb
bowtie
hawaiian shirt
obnoxious
sore thumb
Lyrics
The Sockbag
Verse 1
Pay a nickel, take a peek. Try not to scream.
Peer into the realm of your worst bad dream,
It’s the place where the murdered and fallen ones lie.
This is the place where stockings go when they die.
A mass of bold socks gone before populate it,
When you’ve seen the things I have, you’re sure to grow to hate it.
Some have no elastic, some have no souls,
Some are thigh-high, some are covered in holes.
Some have eighties racing stripes, some just don’t have matches
Some are that color that never fits and always clashes.
These are not the socks that belong in your shoes.
Rather, these are socks that shall forever go unused.
No master, no feet, just a black plastic cage
Socks from an ancient old forgotten age,
I hate this place, yet, when my socks are expended
I find myself returning to this land of the descended.
Chorus
It’s the sockbag, it’s residents can’t be recycled
Little socks watch your step in the dry cycle
For there’s no escape from the hefty bag prison
Of the patched-up, mismatched-up and the unforgiven.
Verse 2
Someone didn’t want them, and gave them away.
Someone accepted, they dwell to this day
In a corner that now holds my nightmares each night
And makes my feet wish to be taken by frostbite
It’s a deal with the devil wearing hollow dead stockings,
Balled-up moth bait fiends are laughing and mocking
Stay away from this discarded sock swarm
Never set foot in this land of the darned.