| Born garbage day, warden of the shawarma plate
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| Fork a naked eye, and trade survival tips with tardigrades
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| Ephemera burning where the morning look like haunted marble cake
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| Parkas and pajama pants, I’m part of what don’t march-in-place
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| I’m partial to the closest roving pack of gnashing gums
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| Smoking out the local protein, brokering the rabbit punch
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| I’m broken, fuck a focus group, fuck your folk, and Toto too
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| The produce of a pencil-neck who never met a social cue
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| Eye of the archfiend, appetite for alpha dogs
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| Step into the party with a killing jar and shadow box
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| Like «Who invited acid wash?», I’m shopping for the mantelpiece
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| Overkill is catalogued and crammed into banana leaves
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| Polaroids around him like a visit from the Vantablack
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| Miniatures in Biggie shirts and minutes that he can’t get back
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| It isn’t just gorillas in a camera trap, it triggers
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| The history pack a little aftermath in every image
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| Look
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| I should paint a eye on the front door
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| I should tell time by the sun more
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| I want a flaming arrow shot into a creeping raft
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| I’m kidding I just want the cheapest shit you people have
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| It’s no thing
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| No displayed blazonry, unmistakably mutinous
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| The mood is disillusionment, shit, even Cindy Lou Who quit
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| I’m super stupid, future looking tuna fish and suture kit
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| In route to mute the TV and a view without a boot to lick
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| Bruised at the nucleus and drooling through the bells of war
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| Meet the neighbors when your resume is «skeleton-with-oar»
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| «Ummm, that’s really cool your poodle made the paper»
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| Let’s keep it at shoes in a elevator
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| He’s a hat and coat, floating with no discernible visage
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| The villains turn to their homies who mostly turn into crickets
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| I’m part of a larger ghosting, I go to work with the wizards
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| Who already voted homecoming theme as a burning village
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| The damn shame campaign pivot when you in the field
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| Thinning blood and newly surfacing disorder, spin the wheel
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| Feeders out to slow the roll, reaper on the protocol
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| People you confide in will be spotted eating rodents whole
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| I should hang a skull on the side door
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| I should drink water from the sky more
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| I want a thousand lanterns drifting on a summers wind
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| I’m only joking, y’all can feed me to the fucking pigs
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| It’s no thing
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| Marshmallows over magma from the mantle has been cancelled
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| How snappy can you adequately scaffold?
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| Happy canvassing the neighborhoods I’ll never take advantage of his patron
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| As a patient they are plays to be a phantom of
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| Nan under the bandages, examine 'til he vanishes
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| I don’t feel a social pull to show the wolves where grandma lives
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| I find deliverance from evil either in a sedentary binge
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| Or spring interning with the cemetery winds
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| No stacked sash or accolades from authority
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| The backstory gets all back-into-a-corner-y
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| Abuses in the feeding tube, that circle back to eat at you
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| Bacteria that tip the hat, adversity that gleam the cube
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| It’s tit for tat with slippery aristocrats who pity cops
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| And brilliant rats who find the grit to slip out of the Skinner box
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| The moat’s supposed to keep the rivals out
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| The calls are coming from inside the house
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| I should nail boards to the back door
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| I should feed squirrels from my hand more
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| I want to meet the maker in a proper suit and shoes
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| I’m lying, let 'em find the body with the loot removed
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| It’s no thing |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Marble Cake, artist - Aesop Rock. Album song Spirit World Field Guide, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп