| Mash the buttons, knock knock, never yield
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| Phobias in motion blowing smoke into the sterile field
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| Wonkavator up beyond the seraphim, terra beneath the keratin
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| Every bit precariously jerry-rigged
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| His helmet is a case of Bud, he factor in the paper cuts
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| Corrugated cockpit, I’m not exactly Major Tom
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| Buzzed Aldrin, I can’t count backwards
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| Ten, one, someone get this buzzard to the Matmos
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| Ten thousand hours addressing open beaks
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| Exiting the atmosphere with no green to chroma key
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| Greebles on the body, tin cans on the bumper
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| Slip into the freezing ether like a pea coat from his mother
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| How much interstellar freedom can he reasonably suffer?
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| More than you can feed through a shutter
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| I use a phony voice when I’m yelling, «Nobody's home»
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| I’m a liar, but I wouldn’t say I’m wrong
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| I ain’t really seen land in a minute
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| AWOL spaceman, wave to the Mrs
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| Faint transmission after nothing for the summer
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| I have never seen so many colors
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| Uh, ayy
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| The human heart tattoo move in a hard vacuum
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| Only back to pay a bill or maybe fill a cart with cat food
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| I’m shredded, smelling like I just stepped off a charred capsule, I did
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| That’s not imaginary ash in his wig
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| That’s rounding Cygnus with a souvenir from galaxy quest
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| I know it sound like myth and magic, but the shrapnel commits
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| I give a fuck about a factory scent, we mostly play to the fringe
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| They figure, «What's a little tape on the wings?»
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| A little glue, a little paint, a little staple and string
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| You won’t believe how far the garbage when that radio ping
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| Behold a view or two where you could lose your voice at the moon
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| I hope you like your beef and veggies with the moisture removed
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| Dig it, the low rider, lower the gold visor
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| Nosedive guided by the ghost of Laika, my heavens
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| Slow drive, side-eye stealthy
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| When can we expect you?
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| Why would you expect me?
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| I ain’t really seen land in a minute
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| AWOL spaceman, wave to the Mrs
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| Faint transmission after nothing for the summer
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| I have never seen so many colors
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| Tangentially related in the sense of one’s environment
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| Informing what they’re made of
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| There was a ghost who broke it all up into tiny numbers
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| And dated vector graphics and New York Times puzzles
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| Who struggled knowing love as more than boring data entry
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| More reported from an orbit all his own, to say it gently
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| I’m reporting from an orbit all my own, to say it gently
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| Catch a wave in the jalopy down to burn up on re-entry
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| Man the laser, do you copy? |
| Keep invaders on the business end
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| Autopilot zeroes in on zero wind for pissing in
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| Fixer-upper, she putt like a Plymouth Duster
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| From bucket to mothership, if you’re up for a little sunburn, stat
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| Neighbors at the mercy of a thin wall
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| One side nap, one satellite pinball
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| Fun size asteroids pingin' off the cabin
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| Ping, ping, the soundtrack of shrinking into blackness
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| I blink through 4D, droid sitting bitch scorned
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| The voice of destroy and rebuild
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| Who rose above the partly cloudy counting on a Galaga hack
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| His only carry-on's a napkin of math
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| From packed in a menagerie to cheese and crackers at the apogee
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| Add a little finding God and trying not to atrophy, um
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| I know you’re whispering about me at the corner store
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| «We've seen the glowing light from under his apartment door»
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| I ain’t really seen land in a minute
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| AWOL spaceman, wave to the Mrs
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| Faint transmission after nothing for the summer
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| I have never seen so many colors |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Button Masher , by - Aesop Rock. Song from the album Spirit World Field Guide, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп