Lyrics Take Me To The Basement - The Opus

Take Me To The Basement - The Opus
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Take Me To The Basement, artist - The Opus. Album song First Contact 001, in the genre Электроника
Date of issue: 06.04.2002
Record label: Indus
Song language: English

Take Me To The Basement

Take me to the basement
Let me count the holes in your foundation
Ancient ridicule system alert, kissing my lurk
The perch of rare grimace on iron mask
I remember science class
If chemistry could silence the lions laugh I’d be fine
(I fail to) Meddlin' up
Adrenaline trades the leaves that walk the plank
Before the crimson struck a match this season
Meridian carpal will jolt your logic
When the burn earned its self normalcy for 20 plus
Run amok or sink;
swim’s not an option
She applied the lipstick slow
Slow enough for me to bask in
Fast enough for me to wish it lasted
Past my alarms cackling
The front line of its mystiques, geeked off my proposals
Bargains for the ogres who prefer the roller coasters
(I prefer the roller coasters)
Well that’ll sip the blood of merry men
That’ll grace holiday carols where the 'merry' ends
Spiral past the auto craft, exhale into vinyl raft
And pirate your local rain puddle torturous
Try to shake pilot fish off your dorsal fins
Lets dive through the archives, Xanax on frantic planet
Stamp it with a notable brand to reap the profit
See I don’t know hell but I’ve read about it often
Sounds like a dope concept gone wrong
(Note to caution)
Take me to the basement
Lets zoom into that war pig sensation
Take me to the basement
Lets disassemble the core’s rotation
Sayin', if you choose to build it you’ll die by the tools you build with
So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age
Take me to the basement
Lets deny the nervous room to pace in
Take me to the basement
Lets review the hearts ramifications
Sayin', if you choose to build or you’ll die by the tools you build with
So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age
Take me to the basement
Lets remove the costume you escaped in
Hold up your legacies, I’ll tell you which one’s my favorite
Hold up your alacritive innocence
I’ll teach you about the perks of patience in seminar format.
(What?)
I’ve worn that hat for seven years
That’s why it’s discolored, ragged and shitty
I ain’t about to toss it when its been through all these dream wars with me
I’m an undercover prophet, thrift shop garb
I’d rather starve then sit inside this gridlock until it parts
This tailor-made routinē ain’t suitin' me
It’s tight around my neck like 13 loops, rafter, an apple box
Heartless harvest of mine, I’m tired of pissin' benediction
Maybe it ain’t healthy, but sometimes I’d rather burn then let you help me
It’s getting brisk, brick as fuck
My skin ain’t thick enough, these icicles ain’t civil
How many freezer burn victims can one society on tilt manufacture prior to
higher being intervening just to release last laughter
And every tree trunk’s made of third rails with tourniquet branches
And I learned to walk with an anchor in my back pocket
And man, I read palms during even the most brief handshakes
And man I ain’t alive to pull the weeds around the spotlit
Well I’m wallowin', followin' my little lost princess to the promised land
Hollerin' my potent slogan, hell, if Nostradamus can
Conquering these open roads with throttle pin to floor
Cause I’mma win right after I finish these chores
Take me to the basement
Lets zoom into that war pig sensation
Take me to the basement
Lets disassemble the core’s rotation
Sayin', if you choose to build it, you’ll die by the tools you build with
So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age
Take me to the basement
Lets deny the nervous rooms of pacin'
Take me to the basement
Lets review the heart’s ramifications
I’m sayin', if you choose to build or you’ll die by the tools you build with
So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age
Take me to the basement…
«I think the greatest harm done the human race has been done by the poets.»
«Well, poets are dull boys, most of them, but not a lot are especially fiendish.
«They keep filling people’s heads with delusions about… love.»

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NameYear
River 2002

Artist lyrics: The Opus