Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Grace, artist - Aesop Rock. Date of issue: 09.07.2012
Song language: English
Grace |
| Ian why don’t you say grace |
| «dear god thanks, and if you loved me vegetables would be extinct» |
| Now I’m looking down the barrel of a string-bean side like an exodus of |
| biblical proportion redefined |
| Rectangle seat 4, squeeze 5, each one |
| May not be excused from the table ‘til the green gone |
| Stomach revvin‘ up an episodic rerun |
| Where’s a dissipating plume of smoke when you need one? |
| Chris and Graham hate ‘em too but advocate a braver chew invented for the code |
| red, cola chaser, nose held, gulp! |
| Moments later 2 have been released |
| Leaving me the legroom and the legume police |
| Going «freeze, you with the pretzeled arms |
| Send your fabricated nausea my best regards |
| And know this kitchen as a prison ‘til the pea pods die |
| I could sit here all night» |
| So could I |
| Who was at the doorjust now? |
| Kids on dirt bikes asking you to bunny-hop the curbsides Really? |
| Yup I told em «oh he busy, he staring at his green beans being a total pussy» |
| Who was at the doorjust now? |
| Kids on skateboards asking you to navigate the claymores Really? |
| Yup, I told em «oh he can’t, he in the kitchen pouting and terrified ofa plant» |
| Blink Twice if you are being held hostage |
| I speak and spell ofa sleeper cell in the hospice |
| Woke, impersonating busy little helpers |
| That intimately purr between the hiccuping up of feathers |
| Pick a porcelain dish |
| A single portion canned |
| Frozen or fresh |
| Defies the glory ofthe Poultry or fish |
| Via communal bloodletting that rupture spud levy |
| No '87 supper-scape was truly flood-friendly, ever |
| Including at your basic cemetery for contaminated textures 60 minutes into never |
| Where room temp heirlooms emanate a crude black mist |
| To a rendition of «dude, dad’s pissed» |
| Tell dad dude’s pissed too |
| Not to mention genuinely brandishing a the new gill hue |
| Still out-mule any last strafing watchmen |
| ‘til the lord taketh waiting as an option |
| Who was at the doorjust now? |
| Kids on dirt bikes asking you to bunny-hop the curbsides Really? |
| Yup I told em «oh he busy, he staring at his green beans being a total pussy |
| Who was at the doorjust now? |
| Kids on skateboards asking you to navigate the claymores Really? |
| Yup, I told em «oh he can’t, he in the kitchen pouting and terrified ofa plant» |
| Less like toes in a tide pool |
| More like, left, right, poached from notable giant Kaiju |
| Fat neck, fine tooth, rock and lean, yelling |
| «this ends now eat the god damn beans!"ah! |
| Hangdog mouth talk slang wrong and that there’s flatware exhumed by a crane arm |
| Time for some action |
| Stab one ripe for a swipe and extraction |
| Brined in malpractice |
| Carried to the cavernous yap and obliged access |
| If only in compliance with a deep-fried fascist, peep |
| Literally bite down once |
| And my tongue get a flooding from my uninvited guts |
| Pointer finger plug a hole in the damn |
| Ma notice, «ok gross, dinner’s over, go spit», pop call «bullshit» |
| Both of my brothers break in, like «he's on his Davie Hogan no mistaken», |
| by the way |
| Who was at the doorjust now? |
| Kids on dirt bikes asking you to bunny-hop the curbsides Really? |
| Yup I told em «oh he busy, he staring at his green beans being a total pussy |
| Who was at the doorjust now? |
| Kids on skateboards asking you to navigate the claymores Really? |
| Yup, I told em «oh he can’t, he in the kitchen pouting and terrified ofa plant» |