And I’m not sure why I’m infatuated with death,
My imagination is surely an aggravation of threats…
Maybe cause I’m a dreamer, and sleep is the cousin of death,
Really stuck in the scheme of wondering when I’mma rest.
Never we sleep, a thug doesn’t rest,
Cause a wise man said: it was a cousin of death.
Death is the cousin of sleep,
Just close your eyes, count sheep and breathe deep.
Think about the sound of relief that surrounds you,
You were already gone before I found you.
They say sleep is the cousin of death, guess we related…
Cause I’m the most slept on, and the most hated.
If sleep is the cousin of death, then death is the cousin of sadness;
Murder’s the cousin of madness, love is the cousin of that bitch.
I never sleep, ‘cause sleep is the cousin of death.