Lyrics Ithaca - Rob Sonic

Ithaca

Rubbers so fair game, vicious V, R-and-R
Renegade baby back, maniac car alarms
Are in chart, yellow eyes surf-n-turf the gasoline
Make me search for scissors, taking pictures, turning Japanese
Strawberry clockwork, Rockford wanna file this
Buy me out for 90 thou', a tiny house and violins
That’s why the pins and needles and I sew with are the dirtiest
So come and tread the depth of this perception if you’re curious
Hurry wigs messed up, wrestle with the woe is me
Ricochets that hit your face and settled in your Ovaltine
Don’t believe the hype or looper, why sumo even try
To measure up the center cut, in finer suits and beeper ties
These the guys that get their kicks while soldering your fingernails
Laughing at the lockers while they’re doctoring your ginger ale
Distant tales on how it was, revisions with the pitter-pat
Up and down my power lunch on how it was on River Ave
If your cat bit 'em, well, zinfandel christening
Ship 'em to the Donner man where all the ants are listening
Ripping in a jellyfish, scale back the oven mitts
And set it an forget it 'cause I’m steady on that other shit
Cover it, entity, tambourine, war-cry
Hit 'em with the rhythm of that Ithaca jawline
More time needed to be seated at assembly
We come to take the lunchroom and the mushrooms made of centipedes
The area that you are discussing now is the aura of this planet
It is the Communicative Channel to which the
Million Council governs this planet
From the ground where they house-sit for cables
Mouthfuls of miller turned to scalpels and staples
Couch full of village voice, Illinois key-chains
Death be a fillers point, kill the noise briefcase
Tell your teenage cherries on a chalkboard
Got a bra barely just to carry 'round his aux cord
Encore, treading the rest of your own face
When the best of your options are sopping in propane
He rocking your rope chain, a problem you can’t solve
With some years, ever clear of spirited phone calls
Mirrors on both walls, watching your night off
For fear that your own flaws were not at the drive cloth
Rock 'em and sock toys with the rubbed off tool, he’s
On the way to fake daps and got stuck on twosies
Cuffing his blue jeans right at your boot spurs
Fuck your life, Bobby light up your block like the Pubert
Want to fight about it flower?
I’m down at the shipyard
With a hoochie mama using her boobs as a whip card
Bottomless pit bog, starving but still wavy
Walking with six yards through the parks that are still crazy
Staring a true A to Z in dark glasses
Part of the roof rainy, tea parlor bar matches
Speeding through fall fashion week, if the truth hurts
I’ll be in a Jaws hat, Capris, and a new fur