| Yeah
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| Personal globular worlds
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| Licorice bridges link pickpocket the pearls that house paupers, Clutching at
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| binoculars burning down borders
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| Bullet-ridden rocks in swirling brown waters
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| The harbingers of doom in a matchstick palace play marbles with their moons
|
| Lose tight control to the master in the room
|
| As their customised galaxies sparkle on a spoon
|
| Safe in the gullet spinning orbs all in order, trowel-sized fireballs orbit in
|
| an aura
|
| They all called it torture
|
| The rat stole the sun with a nine-iron hitting a black hole in one
|
| Like tee-off, fore
|
| Lost in the grand structure
|
| Poor guy slit his wrists in the sand bunker
|
| Strapped up to shuttles in a flat tundra
|
| Trapped under luggage stacked skyward in this gas cluster
|
| That hunger straddled the sky and left a tonne of rusty minute hands flapping
|
| goodbye
|
| The planets collide, tied to the skull of any fool that can spew a gaseous
|
| cloud and bring a set of tools
|
| In a vat of fuel boiling, dead swimmers drifting
|
| For sale signs nailed into eyeballs, sinking
|
| All-hail the conqueror
|
| Do the work instead of playing conkers with components of your universe
|
| Yeah
|
| Collect them all
|
| Collect the balls
|
| Chemical sweats
|
| Skeletal legs
|
| Ten steps from a desolate mess
|
| Teeth carving rocks
|
| Gardens growing flea-sized martian gods
|
| Yeah, we sat fashioning a pea-sized laughing stock
|
| Nevertheless
|
| Venomous pests
|
| Build stars from their featherless flesh
|
| Stand back, let 'em shoot
|
| Rip stitching in their pebble-dashed leather suit
|
| Worm squirming in their residue
|
| Fuck this verse
|
| He was weak yang water ox
|
| Light trapped in matter, fine angled gamma
|
| Never said more than chopsticks could hold
|
| Gnostic mosh pit eyes on his postulates
|
| 'Maybe we all oscillators
|
| And these orbs modulate us', he thought
|
| Every brain cell’s a nebular, glands secrete planets
|
| Hands that feed the galaxies gannets
|
| Hands to feet and clutches toes, fractal meat on a spongy bone
|
| Reach for the adrenochrome and talk with the chameleons
|
| He talk they listen, he speak, but know no words
|
| He thought they chicken, but fish in sea know no birds
|
| Not for all the saucers of Ezekiel
|
| Trumpets of Jericho, felt God’s thumb prick in stereo mix
|
| Binaural archipelago hits, fallen star chart arpeggio
|
| Wait till his chi make the candle go Mandelbrot
|
| Canned horn of antelope
|
| Meteor pistachio chips
|
| Triangulum Queen Cassiopeia
|
| Orbital Orbisons, Tauruses in the slumber chair
|
| Ionosphere, apex of the numbers square
|
| Painting a comet as a conker-cum-plane
|
| As the honky tonk plays
|
| In atomic Feng Shui
|
| Algebraic eight legged astral aphids
|
| Flung his astronaut jacket to catch the railing
|
| Anti-grav galactic aquaplaning
|
| Chemical sweats
|
| Skeletal legs
|
| Ten steps from a desolate mess
|
| Teeth carving rocks
|
| Gardens growing flea-sized martian gods
|
| Yeah, we sat fashioning a pea-sized laughing stock
|
| Nevertheless
|
| Venomous pests
|
| Build stars from their featherless flesh
|
| Stand back, let 'em shoot
|
| Rip stitching in their pebble-dashed leather suit
|
| Worm squirming in their residue |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Chemical Sweats, artist - Jam Baxter. Album song The Gruesome Features, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп