In ancient waters toxic, piling drums for the dying sun Prying ghosts want to know, you a man child swept up in an iron lung Molten lava in my hands, trying to put the world back together as I see fit before they got em Escape the paint factory they said, but the fumes got em Seats on Ratzingers lap they applied for Comrades, belly open, what are they dying for? Living in shacks with remote controls Long as they freeze one by one never ask the question Mediocrity sets in around spring, by noon, forgot our lesson The Leviathan, buying trends, turning trends to cannon fodder Must have been, gunshot down the street, bullet holes in the loft windows Damn ear murder down stairs and we defend our enemy, know thy enemy, love thy butcher... Rottin' molecules in my neck is enemy Spoiling my spine So I speak like a half dead old man, with a graveyard in his gut Can't return to the past or days of hand holding Cowardice a disease, only replaced by a long jump I can't save the world with love, and they can't kill me with looks Nowadays, fundamentalists don't even reed, can't kill em with books Somewhat art replace by CGI, can't kill em with prose All I need it to get the water out of my knees, but the alter is too high Goddess Mare, come get me on your magic jetpack, lets blacken the sky I'm cutting the umbilical, no matter the cause I touch the mantle, I feel my insides pull, and we ain't ate since 68
You think they been here all along, but they only just arrived in on cavalry
It's party time at the River Styx We stay drunk for health despite what the river thinks In quicksand they hand you a shovel, "This is how we build." In real life they hand you C4, "This is how we feel." With no instruction manual, a functional man makes good on twenty percent of his promises Don't wait up for me, I am on the run from the man I used to be He who stands in his place suffers no illusions He who jobs in his place suffers no contusions Everyone is somewhat false, so I prefer seclusion With my insides torn, the outside is gone to me Shadowboxed in the scenery I used to be like, "I can fix things if you lean on me." Now I'm blinded, no more cowards bleed on me That's the designs and plans, ain't no gettin' ahead when you standing on landmines Like ripples in puddles, worlds and words easily erased So far we've come, so short we fall from our face, on a lithograph in Pompeii The king had many men, many lands, many things All that remains is broken bones and melted golds That won't even hold the volcanic ash on a strip mall...