I Was Hothead

Tired and stopping
All I have is off-land and off-limits
Pale as opoponax
Love it, sack some
I'll sell, sell some
Pour myself some to see
Would I have a shot
I'll treat you just like, just like a cup
All these airheads need assassin
My sense was hotter and I was hothead
They, my selfhood, my scent of mouth

They all, they owe