| The first step is a doozy, it’s roulette with a mood ring
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| The birth of an old slang, the death of a new speak
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| A permanent post-game is littered with bridge trolls
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| Skirting the copay, divvy the death toll
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| Innumerable codenames, alerted and mobile
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| Familiar rising, and furnacing cold piles
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| Resilient style kings, impossibly tantrum
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| Wandering wild things, obelisk phantoms
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| On linoleum or lava, leaders of a leadfoot fauna
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| His left source blunt force trauma
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| Not pillar of the commune, a splinter off the pagan
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| Who vote off the elusiveness of truth and exultation
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| From the point of view of students labeled putrid little aphids
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| By the beautiful and cryogenic stasis
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| Sadists, meanwhile makers of a hideous whatnot
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| Committed to a lowdown Sisyphus up-rock
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| Are shaving at a truck stop, aging exponentially
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| Homie, no myth flowers grow where he piss
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| And I still row boats outta bottles without abandon
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| To shrink into the sunset bumping Pachelbel’s Canon
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| In D motherfucker, the author of the artistry
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| May or may not be weeping to an automated pharmacy
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| Hello. |
| Hello? |
| Shit
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| Too geeked up to even keep it down
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| Too peaced out to even be around
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| Too beat up to even breathe it out
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| (Too freaked out to even leave your house) x5
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| You wish you could dance more, I wish you would talk less
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| My gentleman transformed, to bringers of offed heads
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| Moments of land war, my Lazarus species
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| Tattered and bruised up, from back in the cheap seats
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| Hackers on crew cuts, foam at the mush mouth
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| Gag at the news truck, notably unsound
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| Dragging his clown shoes, food in his moustache
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| Raggedy hounds tooth, zilch on a bus pass
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| I’m good, house at the beach of expelled hubcaps
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| Black lawn, backyard melting into Lovecraft
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| Bad yarn spun by the hum of the bug zapper
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| Of kings becoming runners, and runts becoming alphas
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| And underdogs with posters of a front-side Tony Alva
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| On the sticker laden walls above their uncle’s Bowie albums
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| Graduate to flyers of an execrated sigil
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| And live to see another sexy generation fizzle
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| Out, keep rap homely
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| Bear claw slippers, over-sized Billy Joel tee
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| Fat-faced, potbelly, neckbeard, crow’s feet
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| Rat nest, gross teeth, pock marks, go team
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| I walk with Hawaii on a greenscreen behind me
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| So even the awkward pauses feel inviting
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| Standing at a landmark sleep drought keep out
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| Can’t talk now too freaked out |