so the abyss walks into a bar,
time only flies because i can't. who needs self control when you've got ground control, mind control, & set the controls on fire because i am so out of here i almost BELIEVE myself! i can make a mess but not conversation, i'll just stand here & blink in morse code & talk to myself because i don't speak your language. or mine, for that matter. feel like someone stretched a thin film over reality & everything just seems totally wrong. here the chorus chimes in with WELL IT'S PROBABLY YOU well tell me something i don't know & i'll give you this candy i just took from that baby over there & we can compare guilty consciences. hint: you win by default.
recorded an album in philadelphia last weekend city of brotherly oven [BURN BABY BURN] with the highest murder rate in the country, completely understandable ie. it should be higher, what a fucking hole that place is. & impossible to leave because waiting for the bus means being subject to death threats from bovine napoleon complexes who will simply erupt if you try to fit through the door before they pollute it with their bad tempered bulk, losing my temper twice in three days kind of stretches pretty thin that one happy little briefcased business-suited nerve capable of representing my patience in court, no i'm totally well adjusted what are you talking about it's the city, the city is the problem, i have my shit TOGETHER. working title betrothed to the glockenspiel of hell? not done being mixed but when it is, when it is. for now it's nothing exceeds like excess & i am back in school in two weeks have to stop this firing-squad-for-brain-cells i've turned into over the summer & well Show Up. hasn't been a problem yet i may be the black sheep of the human race but little bo peep lost ME, not the other way around
some cry wolf some cry sheep some just cry & this is why brooklyn gets hit by tornadoes. all style no substance, what am i supposed to abuse. WHAT ARE YOU HIDING FROM? why, rhetorical questions, of course. question marks are sharp barbed little monsters said the would-be journalist about to sink those little hooks into your brain & pry the information out to warp, twist, & step on to suit whichever evil pays me. oh it's days like today that make me glad my memory is shot right between the eyes, dead on arrival still dead but propped up in a stately old office chair making decisions that will shatter the earth like a discolored glass ceiling given half a chance. give an inch, take a wallet, sit back relax & enjoy the show because it's enjoying you, oh is it ever
recorded an album in philadelphia last weekend city of brotherly oven [BURN BABY BURN] with the highest murder rate in the country, completely understandable ie. it should be higher, what a fucking hole that place is. & impossible to leave because waiting for the bus means being subject to death threats from bovine napoleon complexes who will simply erupt if you try to fit through the door before they pollute it with their bad tempered bulk, losing my temper twice in three days kind of stretches pretty thin that one happy little briefcased business-suited nerve capable of representing my patience in court, no i'm totally well adjusted what are you talking about it's the city, the city is the problem, i have my shit TOGETHER. working title betrothed to the glockenspiel of hell? not done being mixed but when it is, when it is. for now it's nothing exceeds like excess & i am back in school in two weeks have to stop this firing-squad-for-brain-cells i've turned into over the summer & well Show Up. hasn't been a problem yet i may be the black sheep of the human race but little bo peep lost ME, not the other way around
some cry wolf some cry sheep some just cry & this is why brooklyn gets hit by tornadoes. all style no substance, what am i supposed to abuse. WHAT ARE YOU HIDING FROM? why, rhetorical questions, of course. question marks are sharp barbed little monsters said the would-be journalist about to sink those little hooks into your brain & pry the information out to warp, twist, & step on to suit whichever evil pays me. oh it's days like today that make me glad my memory is shot right between the eyes, dead on arrival still dead but propped up in a stately old office chair making decisions that will shatter the earth like a discolored glass ceiling given half a chance. give an inch, take a wallet, sit back relax & enjoy the show because it's enjoying you, oh is it ever