| Ears flat back, middle finger like a meerkat
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| Moonstruck, two bear traps where his shoes was
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| All goose bumps, juke around a critical hit
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| Loose trucks into civil unrest
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| The whole city out to quibble over kibbles and bits
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| Keeping the pillory full, keeping the piss in the wind
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| I’m in the basement mixing up the medicine with the Wizard of Id
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| If it deliver us from the grip of the grid
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| Spelling «Save Our Ship» with a stick in the sand
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| Pull a sock puppet off a 6-fingered hand
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| Everybody Wang-Chung with the spiritually bankrupt
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| Drank blood from the same cup he dump change from
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| Doc Strangelove, lazy in the Lincoln Logs
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| Looking for some inkling of Wynken, Blynken, Nod
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| Instead it’s Blinky, Inky, Pinky and Clyde
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| I know the goal is split the chrysalis wide
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| I’m only in it to hide, come on
|
| This news, clips of the shifty, crippled and misused
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| Pigs in the pews
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| Stick, move, face-down folk recycled as fish food
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| All this news
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| This news, metal in the water and men with split hooves
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| Homesick blues
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| Win, lose, money over shark fin soup and stiff booze
|
| All this news
|
| One strawberry jelly, one glazed
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| One saucer of milk for the strays
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| None of his bills paid, all of his ilk romp
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| Half of them uninsured, all of them film cops
|
| Call of the wild kid, trade a cow for seeds
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| I’m in the clouds smelling blood from the cowards beneath
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| I trade a crown for teeth blaming an unrequited love
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| Might release hounds dressed up like doves
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| Out here pigs play metal like kettle drums
|
| Turn a quick deli trip to a temple run
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| And belly laugh, rebel tongues cover up a checkered past
|
| All they really want is fertilizer for the lemongrass anyway
|
| Homie don’t give 'em a reason
|
| Or we over coffee reading of your intimate evening
|
| With another ripened psychopath shopping for attention
|
| You are not even a peasant, you’re a notch in a weapon, ah
|
| This news, clips of the shifty, crippled and misused
|
| Pigs in the pews
|
| Stick, move, face-down folk recycled as fish food
|
| All this news
|
| This news, metal in the water and men with split hooves
|
| Homesick blues
|
| Win, lose, money over shark fin soup and stiff booze
|
| All this news
|
| All this news
|
| All this news
|
| Yeah
|
| Quills of the filterless
|
| Document the wilderness from silverfish to Gilgamesh
|
| Trinity or triple six
|
| I’m busy trying to split the timber up before the winter
|
| Get the money, skip his dinner, headless chickens hither thither
|
| Playing hooky, looking though the politician to the lizard
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| Are you seriously feeling like a citizen or pris’ner
|
| Ain’t no peaceful protest
|
| The promenade mostly police with goat heads
|
| And no love, look, loose dogs through Scooby-Doo fog
|
| Looking for any semblance of yule log, let alone good jobs
|
| Good folk settle for the pits, rant like a levitating witch
|
| Got crows on the lawn, got steak for the hounds
|
| Got grays and tongues that don’t stay in our mouths
|
| At first light might nurse an aversion to Earth science
|
| Like this game comes with the worst prizes
|
| This news, clips of the shifty, crippled and misused
|
| Pigs in the pews
|
| Stick, move, face-down folk recycled as fish food
|
| All this news
|
| This news, metal in the water and men with split hooves
|
| Homesick blues
|
| Win, lose, money over shark fin soup and stiff booze
|
| All this news |