Lyrics Underbite Ben Finds God Spoken Word - Sage Francis

Underbite Ben Finds God Spoken Word

I remember once I found God.
He was so happy.
I found him in the card catalog at the public library.
Nobody looks there anymore.
Feasting on his manhood just to stay alive.
He could have feasted off that monster for centuries.
Serious, he was hung like this.
You figure finding god might win you automatic entry into Hellven but no,
I have to fool myself there, just like everybody else.
Then I said, «AH, CAN I GET THREE WISHES?!»
«I'm not that kind of god», he said.
He did teach me sign language so I wouldn’t have to fog up my mirror with these
long winded self-evaluations every morning.
«Look at you, concave man.»
You know what concave means?
We have a young crowd
It means I have an innie instead of an outie.
The best thing about being concave, besides having your balls look so huge and
out of place, it’s the midgets.
They crawl inside and paint pictures on the wall.
A little person died there once.
That’s what I mean when I mention the ghosts.
I’m haunted, down there.
Welcome to my world.
It’s a world where all the well endowed animals of this planet simultaneously
die from a horrible case of womb envy.
It’s a world where Natalie Portman stalks me, and she’s still 14, and it’s ok,
'cause it’s my world baby.
It’s a world where when you multiply a negative number by a negative number,
you don’t get a positive number, YOU GET A BIGGER NEGATIVE NUMBER!
And I don’t have to *beatboxes* to keep you interested.
Mommies don’t die, she never left me, and there’s not dark sweat marks where my
fucking heart should be.
When I fly, it’s first class bitch.
All they serve is vegetarian meals on my flight.
The guy on the side of me’s pissed.
«Excuse me.
Please check the back, see if you got one with chicken in it maybe?
Maybe someone could get me chicken.»
«I'm sorry sir, you gotta call forty-eight hours ahead of time to get your meat
meal.»
He’s none too pleased, so he calls me on his cellphone, to tell me about his,
superbowl show!
I DON’T KNOW!
Wanna flow?
Go to go.
Toe to toe.
I don’t rock polo.
He gets bombarded by all these public service announcments that let him know, «YOU SUPPORTED TERRORISM BY PAYING TAXES and driving all over the place,
you could have just fucking walked down the street.»
FACT!
And I laughed, all the way to the sperm banks, soccer mom.
Haha, it’s not my world, it’s his.
The big white guy in the sky.
I’m stuck down here, lookin' into my foggy mirror, peering into my concave,
practicing my math on all you poor aborted fetus’s.
Reminding myself how far away I am from God.
I chopped off my dick, shoved it into my asshole, and smuggled it out of the
country, FOR YOU!!!