[Doseone]
If I'm out sometimes
Out there sometimes
I make a miserable human
Emptied out and feeling stupid, sterile
For breathing my choice is stale
And my arms and legs are falling asleep
My hosted figure it out is falling asleep
Everybody wants to wake up [penis] and
Get them snacked on the cop at staples rip
Every line's not perfect punk
Loaded the gram wrong
Don't make a difference still hurts
Being out of minds to stand up and
Run sour, be small today
Screams a scarecrow with self-righteous
Taking so seriously
Even the big stick it rusts shut
Water burns off the good catcher as it burns
[Sole]
We're goin' back to the popcorn
A la DJ Mayonnaise
Who's their mesmeriser?
Forgot how to win [at chess and]
Prepare dinner table for guests
I hide the [simple ware and eat tourists]
It's not nice to point
You can hit with the wrong reasons
But I hope you leave convinced
And no fingerprints or imprints
I've been here since I sat down
Disown a talent, and all the people that make a living within its padded walls
I hate you all
For not that your like me
Maybe I'm wrong, but I make the rules
And break the hearts
If you [want it here], I'm down to take
But I can carry it in my cage
Show me the paintings
These are [cursive spells] of recipes
d**h to the world
Live forever critically acclaimed
Forget my name
But please know the [words] that follow the songs
For the next years to come
[Alias]
I cry inside only ‘cause I have no energy to do it on the outside
I'm tired and grown quite weary, saying
What the hell's the matter with future not reflecting
Looking at it in disgust, can you come up with something, anything?
[Hook by Sole/Alias]x4
It's like, all alive, we're all gonna die
Prepare my cocoon when I'm gonna
Write a Bible
[Doseone]
The feeling c*nt
Watch 'em get her clothes up
And walks out
Disregard their air in me
Happiness is dying
Wishing we downed the entire set
Walking on my hands and feet
Jesus say “You like me psalm”
Whatever happened next and
I'm not an alien and everything
Will not be alright
There is a wrong in every speck
Longitudinal slum to lay around the world
Forces your belly bet biting my tongue
(Biding the time)
[Alias]
Repeated short buzzes bring me to my disconnected
Feeling in a 14:40 minute
Cycle of this
Perhaps it is this
That makes my music so depressing
Or maybe it's the fact I have to travel extensively
To work with others in my circle
And as a controlled rain falls into my body
I ponder the thought that it might be the fact
That I'm the minority in my city
Because I don't do Pearl Jam covers
And as I begin that twenty minute journey
I think perhaps it's because I must sit in this
Eight hour constrainer of creativity
Punching numbers when I should be
Pushing bu*tons in two thousand ways
How is it I'm motivated to endure
Eight hours of pure unadulterated boredom?
Then sit in front of another computer for
Four more hours using the same old drum set
Trying different loops, can't find one to fit
Maybe this is why I sit in front of a pad of paper, pen in hand with a blank mind
And I ask myself
Is the writer's slump the best form of meditation?
Rhetorical, don't have an answer
And I also don't expect one
[Doseone]
One big clock behind the forehead
Wires hanging out of the keyholes
Of the back of my spine terminated
And completely not the same fabric
As the street should make me humble
Force in by humidity and all the sponge shop habits (quiet)
[Hook] x4
[Alias]
I could easily write those platinum puppets
But I couldn't fight the gag reflex
Even if that weren't the case
I'd look myself in the face of my reflection would probably backhand me
Placin' my blame on myself
[Sole]
[Liver was an island]
Pasted over receptacles, my phlegm
My pen, this [wharf] brings me back
This pungent tundra metaphorical
Punching bag, bring around the human autopsy
Skin all torn, dripping on my [citizens of these bells]
Bringing thorn, singing songs all alone
[I could] whispering, all I do is weep
Pity, isn't it?
If being here is touching myself
This is literary masturbation to say the least
Slay the beast, [depth in]
Swallowing my pride
We are modern humans
Fashioned in, [harboured] outside
The cannon blew out
All the people left the villages
Children run the streets and they
Find new gods to pray to
New ways to prepare for the coming of something new
New ways to prepare for the coming of something wonderful
New ways to prepare for the coming of something new
New ways to prepare for the coming of something beautiful
[Doseone]
No little boy, from the makeup
Is, come on, embarra**ed from the makeup
Man's uncanny successful by mostly in his
Capitalist measuring stick, prolific bare a**
Mushing the clover and [then] the lion's share
My [lunch please], got money tree
Or sanction the openings at [plainly]
Or doing fine, knockin' me [o' and]
[Do it] my own, Avalon
Bought sickle stick and golden tinsel
Valhalla, toasted the Pape
And there is a circle behind every point
And I'm a-scared to spread out
Give back to the rain clouds
It's me against my tape worms
It row cross (peace!) still standing
Die off on doing the hump
It hurts too real (real, real)
[Sole/Slug] x7
Let's get incredible
Break your face values