| (Vita est morte est vita
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| Life is death is life)
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| Found nothing but the feathers and the skull
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| On the porch like a present with a bow
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| Denizen of black earth, gutted and uncoupled from the patchwork
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| Buried by a 7 year cherub in the backyard
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| Epitaph and all
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| Disciple of the cycles and sciences, of birth into fertilized hyacinth
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| Life into vitamins, invited up to cypresses
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| A testament to moxie and the miracle of lifelessness
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| It’s tricky when you’d rather rot into the soil as a nutrient
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| Than navigate this mortal coil in human skin, dig?
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| The nuances of putrefying jelly hit the levee
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| When those feathers are a cancer in your bestie
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| And I pick a ginger gold as fed by a drunken uncle
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| One from a customer pumping that Sumner blood work
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| Memitim ascending, settling any high scores
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| 40 meters up with the heart of a high dive horse
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| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
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| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
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| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
|
| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
|
| (Impossible, impossible)
|
| (Hold the fuck up
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| Who is you talking to?
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| Cause ain’t nobody talking to you
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| You can’t do a motherfucking thing)
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| I told my ex in '97 I was falling on my weapon
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| Ripped the phone up out the wall
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| The po' would drag me from my bedroom
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| An embarrassing ordeal involving hospitals and questions
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| And the kind of doctors who use words like «cognitive» and «spectrum»
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| While explaining why you’re selfish to romanticize a ruse
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| In which unruly roots pull you to Lucifer by your shoes I mean, it isn’t
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| perfect but don’t misconstrue the purpose
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| Any urge is indiscernible from community service to the kiddo
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| Plus she’d make a beautiful widow
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| But that’s an altruistic ticket to a room with no windows
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| Hmm you’d think he would’ve learned back in the 80s
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| When they pulled him out of class over concerns about his safety
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| But he didn’t, it wasn’t cause he doesn’t get the message
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| More he doesn’t judge a man by how honorable his death is
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| On a scale you made up anyway
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| Half past out to pasture
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| Whether clapped or batteries in backwards
|
| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
|
| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
|
| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
|
| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
|
| (Impossible, impossible)
|
| (Check this shit out here
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| Don’t be trying to come all for me
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| Cause you is not all of that with your fucked up haircut)
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| I had a pet lizard, he never got an obit
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| Fed him crickets, it was dead a fucking month before I noticed
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| An older me would note that whether disposable goldfish
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| Or theist, we certainly become the earth as equals, in a circle
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| Unique until the spirit isn’t willing
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| While the flesh is still a staple of the labor force and whistling
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| It’s roadkill evoking emotion his own totem don’t
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| That’s a reality you evade or grow to own
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| Social code broke and a hierarchy to gasp at
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| Black labs over wack dads on the admat
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| Tabby over parasite, bats at the parish
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| A civil war becoming of ungovernable atoms
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| I’m born from the guts of stars and black tar pits
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| Iron Maiden denim paint the devil under grawlix
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| Crawls out a clawed coffin to huff and puff
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| Somewhere in between the dust and dust
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| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
|
| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
|
| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
|
| Paint «No Rules» on the water tower
|
| (Impossible, impossible) |