Halls Of Illusions by Insane Clown Posse lyrics (text):

Ticket please, thanks, walk through the doors,
Into the halls of illusion and visit yours,
To see what couldve, and shouldve, and wouldve been real,
But you had to fuck up the whole deal.
Lets take a walk down the hallway,
Its a long way, it takes all day,
And when we get to the end, ya find a chair,
With straps and chains, we slap you in there!
Lock you down tight, so you can't move a thread,
And, pull your eyelids up over your head!
Cuz you're about to witness an illusionary dream,
Its just too bad it aint worth seeing.
You walk in and see two kids on the floor,
They're playin nintendo, and he's got the high score,
And sittin behind them, chillin in the chair,
Is your wife, and you look, oh, you aint there!
Its some other man, and they're hand in hand,
How she looks so happy, ya don't understand,
See, this is an illusion, it never came true
All because of you!
Back to reality and what you're about,
Your wife can't smile, cuz you knocked her teeth out!
And she can't see straight from gettin hit,
Cuz you're a fat fuckin drunk piece of shit!
But it's all good, here, come have a beer,
Ill break the top off and, and shove it in your ear!
And your death comes wicked, painful, and slow
At the hands of milenko!
(chorus:)
Great milenko, wave your wand!
(don't look now, your life is gone)
This is all because of you!
(what you got yourself into)
(end chorus)
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Look whos next, it's mr. clark,
The dirty old man from the trailer park.
Ya got your ticket? thanks, take your coat off,
And later on, why not? I'll rip your throat off.
Lets take a walk down the hallway,
Its a long way, it takes all day,
And when ya get to the end, ya find a chair,
Ya see all the blood? yeah, ya boy was just here!
We get all different kind of people comin through,
Richies, chickens, and bitches just like you!
In the halls, everybody gets a turn,
To sit and witness your illusion before ya burn!
What do we have here? oh dear!
No way! it looks like ya kids in the arcade
Ya daughters chillin up in college, top grades,
And your sons a fuckin doctor, phat pay!
They got family, the kids, and it's all good!
They even coach little league in the neighborhood!
Is this true? have ya really seen the holy ghost?
Naw, bitch! not even close!
Back to reality, your sons on crack!
And your daughters got nut stains on her back!
And they both fuckin smell like shit,
And live in the gutter,
And sell crack to each other.
When they were kids, you'd beat em and leave em home!
And even whip em with the cord of the telephone!
And that reminds me man, hey you got a call!
Watch your step to hell, it's a long fall.
(chorus)
(chorus)
Its time to pack up and move to the next town.
But we forgot mr. bigot,
Okay, dig it,
We can't show ya an illusion, cuz were all packed, but...
Ill still cut your neck out! hows that?
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