Teksty: Why?. By Torpedo Or Crohn's (Dntel Remix).
sleeping late I
hear the sad horns of labor truck sigh
my neighbor walks by
high heels click dry
like half a proud horse down brook
i hear some bodies babbling i mistook
for a cavalry
whispering victory to the sparks in their kindling.
but, but all their green wood's wet and the met
as of yet by the gases of flame
pressing again the pending physics
of my passed down last name.
living in the tier of two spaces condemned
and one of the many places you're not, i am.
hiding from my friends in the bathroom at thrift town
to write this tune down.
today after lunch
i got sick and blew chunks
all over my new shoes in the lot behind whole foods
this is a new kind of blues
and what about losing a more loved one in a duel
dissatisfies you or seems just
as a kid i did not shit my pants much,
why start now with this stuff
but man i do not bluff.
second caller gets bit by a dog or jeff dahmer
kisses of stitiches no ? for this pitches.
lone ? one master of the cheap pun,
if i'm not raw, i'm just a bit underdone.
but i'd be okay, cool as a rail,
if they just let us have health food in hell.
good heavens background radiation
and the black parts awaiting at the same sense
i switched my hair part and started shaving.
got ? my hidden hair gone corners
oh i'll never be a joiner life long local foreigner, i.
draw lung homegrown ? co-ed naked ? ,
second tenor highest riser blessed clever compromiser.
oh i'll be proudly mouthing watermelon every song
i put the phone to my hear but all's i hears a dial tone.
will they map my skull and wrap my bones when my wig is gone hmm?
or go unknown by torpedo or crohns.
only the people live to see their own likeness in stone.
hear the sad horns of labor truck sigh
my neighbor walks by
high heels click dry
like half a proud horse down brook
i hear some bodies babbling i mistook
for a cavalry
whispering victory to the sparks in their kindling.
but, but all their green wood's wet and the met
as of yet by the gases of flame
pressing again the pending physics
of my passed down last name.
living in the tier of two spaces condemned
and one of the many places you're not, i am.
hiding from my friends in the bathroom at thrift town
to write this tune down.
today after lunch
i got sick and blew chunks
all over my new shoes in the lot behind whole foods
this is a new kind of blues
and what about losing a more loved one in a duel
dissatisfies you or seems just
as a kid i did not shit my pants much,
why start now with this stuff
but man i do not bluff.
second caller gets bit by a dog or jeff dahmer
kisses of stitiches no ? for this pitches.
lone ? one master of the cheap pun,
if i'm not raw, i'm just a bit underdone.
but i'd be okay, cool as a rail,
if they just let us have health food in hell.
good heavens background radiation
and the black parts awaiting at the same sense
i switched my hair part and started shaving.
got ? my hidden hair gone corners
oh i'll never be a joiner life long local foreigner, i.
draw lung homegrown ? co-ed naked ? ,
second tenor highest riser blessed clever compromiser.
oh i'll be proudly mouthing watermelon every song
i put the phone to my hear but all's i hears a dial tone.
will they map my skull and wrap my bones when my wig is gone hmm?
or go unknown by torpedo or crohns.
only the people live to see their own likeness in stone.
Why?
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