| My rhyme ain’t good just yet,
|
| My brain and tongue just met,
|
| And they ain’t friends, so far,
|
| My words don’t travel far,
|
| They tangle in my hair,
|
| And tend to go nowhere,
|
| They grow right back inside,
|
| Right past my brain and eyes
|
| Into my stomach juice
|
| Where they don’t serve much use,
|
| No healthy calories,
|
| Nutrition values.
|
| And I absorb back in The words right through my skin
|
| They sit there festering inside my bowels
|
| The consonants and vowels
|
| The consequence of sounds
|
| The consonants and vowels
|
| The consequence of sounds
|
| Got a soundtrack in my mind,
|
| All the time. |
| Kids-
|
| Screamin’from too much beat up And they don’t even rhyme,
|
| They just stand there, on a street corner,
|
| Skin tucked in And meat side out and shot,
|
| And I’d like to turn them down
|
| But there ain’t no knob.
|
| Run into picket fences
|
| Not into picket lines.
|
| All this hippie-shit for the 60's
|
| And another clich? |
| for our time. |
| But,
|
| But a one of these days your heart
|
| Will just stop ticking,
|
| And they sorta just don’t find you till your cubicle is reeking.
|
| The consonants and vowels
|
| The consequence of sounds
|
| The consonants and vowels
|
| The consequence of sounds
|
| Ahh ah ah ah ahh ah ah ah
|
| Did you know that the gravedigger’s still
|
| Gettin’stuck in the machine
|
| Even tough it’s a whole other daydream.
|
| It’s another town it’s another world,
|
| Where the kids are asleep, where the loans are paid
|
| And the lawns are mowed.
|
| Whad’ya think?
|
| All the gravediggers were gone?
|
| Just cause one song is done
|
| There’s always another one,
|
| Waiting right around the bend,
|
| Till this one ends,
|
| Then it begins
|
| Sqeaky clean, then it starts all over again.
|
| The weather report keeps on Tossing and turning,
|
| Predicting and warning,
|
| And warning and warning of,
|
| Possibly it could be news publications and,
|
| Possibly it could be news TV stations. |
| That
|
| Very same morning right next to her coffee
|
| She noticed some bleeding and heard hollow coughing and
|
| National Geographic was being too graphic,
|
| When all she had wanted to know was the traffic
|
| ?The worlds got a nosebleed? |
| it said
|
| ?And we’re flooding but we keep on cutting
|
| The trees and the forests?!
|
| And we keep on paying those freaks on the TV,
|
| Who claim they will save us but want to enslave us.
|
| And sweating like demons they scream through our speakers
|
| But we leave the sound on 'cause silence is harder.
|
| And no one’s the killer and no one’s the martyr
|
| The world that has made us can no longer contain us And profits are silent then rotting away 'cause
|
| The consonants and vowels
|
| The consequence of sounds.
|
| The consonants and vowels
|
| The consequence of sounds.
|
| Ah ah ah?
|
| My rhyme ain’t good just yet,
|
| My brain and tongue just met,
|
| And they aint friends, so far,
|
| My words don’t travel far,
|
| They tangle in my hair,
|
| And tend to go nowhere,
|
| They grow right back inside,
|
| Right past my brain and eyes
|
| Into my stomach juice
|
| Where they don’t serve much use,
|
| No healthy calories,
|
| Nutrition values.
|
| And I absorb back in The words right through my skin
|
| They sit there festering inside my bowels
|
| The consonants and vowels
|
| The consequence of sounds
|
| The consonants and vowels
|
| The consequence of sounds |