Break the wiring harness, stop the cameras
Snakes are firing arms and block the answers
Clouded plots blow spots with robot newscasters
After two masters shoot whispers through roof rafters
Pass it on to the next master gone street merchant
Next person to purchase a version of these freak’s words
And playtime might make time stand still
Saluting riots and looting, it’s a primetime kill
Take me back to the way it used to be
Usually move my feet, now I stand still
While your will chooses defeat
Chew some pills so you can sleep
Only to wake to 9 to 5 to life and can’t escape your fate, right?
Turn on your break lights and turn left wing
Let’s sing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”
And carry it to the burial ground around the corner
Warm your order forms born from your shorter thorns
Torn from your garden
Choose your corporate credit card
While the senate scars the tenants
Lieutenants mar the menace peasants
While the medic yawns and turns his head in pillow dreams
20,00 leagues deep in American Dream sleep soliloquies
Killing me with free speech
Impediment residents don’t know a goddamn thing
About the irrelevant tenements
I’m not dancing
To the ranting and raving
Paving paths past the mating season
Leaving dreamers breeding in the land of the lost
You’re dreaming
When the saints go marching in I’ll market them to demons
Can you pull this cannibalist out of the animal’s fist
With a Hannibalistic wit, you’ll fit me in your schedule
Hidden in your incredible edible head full of skull snaps
That’s that for the dull raps
And I see you knocking back cheap bourbon
You’re fucking knees hurting and you can’t be a complete person
Cause that sheet’s certain to make a stereotype
Paper Tiger keeps the stereo tight, I make the burial rights
I was buried alive riding merry-go-rounds around the burial grounds
Lounging in the fucking lap of luxury
Like ooh, barracuda
I could swear that you were in the school, who bears the fruit of their labor
Fuck that pay dirt, got me reaching for the razor
This one’s for the racist that mocks the caged bird
The one that gives my dumb skull crumbs for a day’s work
That’s why I write a song about fire bombs, fuck Viacom
Sing me a song that’s long and meaningful
Pull me into your premise baby make me want it bad news
Sad moves, truth is a monsoon
Dressed up in costumes on Fox News
Let me mock you to sleep sleepy headbanger
Got to wait your turn to earn your turn through the turnstile
Schemes form four peace wars with taskforce
For more resources for gas whores
You’re dreaming