| yo Double-A
|
| I blaze this energizer let’s see you pull this one…
|
| happy birthday to me
|
| happy earth day to we
|
| I just turned a hundred and seventy five million
|
| two hundred and seventy three
|
| and I’m at my peak
|
| our pick of the week
|
| straight tweaked with a godly type mystique
|
| ??? |
| Spock, nanou nanou ???
|
| abort, distortion report on which sort
|
| a quick court, support, cut short
|
| time warp, interplanetary movement
|
| I’ll say, foul play, hey
|
| which way does Willy Wonka stay?
|
| we came to see the chocolate sway
|
| happy birthday to me, to me
|
| hip hip hooray to me, to me
|
| synthetic or prototype
|
| genetical photocopy
|
| Xerox and medical mocks to breakthrough
|
| shocks and shakes you
|
| as Acey takes you
|
| through lyrical masochism
|
| and as I blast the last to give 'em
|
| dissect, insect, inflict, whoa
|
| destination one-two-oh
|
| ohhhh
|
| 'One hundred and twenty seconds until you die'
|
| When I die, bury me under the gravel
|
| travel fifty feet down, step out and pack me in
|
| I acknowledged (?_ I won’t be back again
|
| now I’m a entity, ex-humanity within
|
| earthly vanities, sunshine and the wind
|
| I suppose, ambrose’ll rose your soul
|
| to give you immortality and infinity skin
|
| but you’re immortal close, you froze
|
| (ah. he froze)
|
| now your takin' in a free fall in the end
|
| every draft, breeze, trickle of water, a sound wave
|
| in your perimeter is similar
|
| and behaves as a test to manifest life forms
|
| it forms a warm blunted
|
| heavily budded individual
|
| in the visual eye
|
| cut it, gut it, fry
|
| I am invisible so is it impossible to cry?
|
| nope, soak my pillow case
|
| I wrote a little taste
|
| I’m hopin' the middle breaks the lies
|
| my objective remains at one with the stainless steel object
|
| still feels the pain
|
| flagrant, nefarious
|
| fragrence of various ages
|
| and chemical compounds compounded
|
| a bouquet, a readily picked array
|
| of dandelions, roses, pointset-i-as
|
| gold marigolds in a vase that’s passed to monks
|
| and kindred, intended, descended
|
| and suspended in mid-air
|
| match amended and I ended on a bad note
|
| put salt in the open wound and I broke |