| Die already
|
| None defy the one-man walled city
|
| Stone made flesh, veins etched in his hands
|
| 88 stance draped in invasive plants
|
| And rain dance unsafely, brace for the supercell
|
| Mutiny or footage for your blooper reel, who can tell
|
| Pours hot tar from the top of the barn
|
| Necktie on his head, condor on his arm
|
| Dog Star in a jar, bordering unsustainable
|
| Mea culpa, mea culpa, maybe I should pray occult
|
| Systematic Catholic or sigil of the Baphomet unraveling
|
| Either way his ID show a snake and skull
|
| Always been a private dude who couldn’t keep a tally
|
| Of which lies he told who
|
| Dye his hair, shave, change names and his lazy drawl
|
| Soon enough I will estrange you all
|
| I get ghost
|
| On Dasher
|
| Half-dead carolers deck a hall, wreck a whole advent calendar
|
| Brother on speakerphone lurking at the Burgerville
|
| Bathrobe hammer toes murdering the curb appeal
|
| Would I be returning or forsaken with the craven and
|
| Carnivorous vegetation that take him for his Steak-umms
|
| I dunno I gotta think about it
|
| Truthfully I don’t know which makes me a bigger coward
|
| Either stomach all the hubris, cash in his two cents
|
| Loose lips locked up over a chewed Eucharist
|
| Or, maybe re-appropriate the energy
|
| Holed up, passing the poultry to Hecate
|
| Bullheaded burn out fled his own pedigree
|
| And never better, never would’ve met your Heaven anyway
|
| Anyway, merry merry go make soup out of bones
|
| Just know when the room go cold
|
| I’m a ghost
|
| Ghost ghost ghost
|
| He’s ghost
|
| Flea comb, exorcism and de-worming
|
| Fitted for a curse and a crown of birds circling
|
| Search party falling forward unthwarted
|
| Meet him at the crossroads drawn and quartered
|
| For a master of puppets, how sad are his cupboards
|
| Non-dairy creamers, can of last supper
|
| And a runneth over cup full of black tap water
|
| Its a marvel of privacy over pack hunter
|
| Raspberry jelly on his Jesus toast
|
| And turn heather gray sweats into Easter clothes
|
| With no immediately measurable crimewave ice-age
|
| Christ children still skin a cat sideways
|
| I don’t pick teams or administer bans
|
| I’m in the creek with a pick and a pan, it go
|
| Forcibly ejected or a voluntary death scene
|
| Tell 'em what the out-of-order blinking EMF mean
|
| Ghost |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Supercell , by - Aesop Rock. Song from the album The Impossible Kid, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп