Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song John Brown's Vaporizer, artist - Themselves. Date of issue: 21.11.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
John Brown's Vaporizer |
| Sure pal… I'll sell you your scalp back |
| For every something to draw with you ever owned and… nahh |
| Uncle, give me a blackened lung and clavicle… |
| Or I could wriggle my zero non emphatical… |
| Strap you to a mountain side and hurl redwoods at your rotten hide |
| Under here while boughs, bird’s nests and tree limbs fly… |
| You simply… drip down the rock face… pureed head case… |
| Close as teensy-weensy crumbs of a whole |
| Fall upon the forest’s plush green canopy… |
| I, forgive me… like rain… happy now… no brain… err |
| And wrongful treatments what I’ll preserve you in… mummification. |
| The uncouth barbarian takes it in the… huhuhuh… |
| It’s what he deserves. |
| under glass fine grain crushed herb… |
| Reckon I could make a mint charging a healthy cover for a glimpse |
| Of your freakish clump of quadriplegic gusto… |
| Something done swung low… but your going home in a crucible… jerk |
| Call it a meltdown… it's really good clean smart… |
| Soul and body of john brown sings in me… |
| No… you start… |
| No… i insist… you start… as you were… |
| Watch… far end of the cantilever’s sparkling thermometer burst… sparkling… |
| Thin air folds the crumpled to stationary… huh… |
| And unsuspecting solid blocks of refuse to rock |
| Apparently pour with apologetic and «can I please go see the nurse?» |
| Right before my eyes…"I don’t feel so good…" |
| Whimper snivel bounces off bell tower stone for lastly gongs and chimes |
| In what’s clockwork… sullen hunchback |
| Pressure rings out to trail blood on lobes… abandonment's all about your… |
| Impregnable and hit the lights yaknowwhatI’msayin' jive turkey |
| Hunting season’s open… so I hum «We Are the World» |
| Polishing a 12-gauge conversion ratio… pausing |
| Now and again to practice you foul calls and set the sight |
| Dinner’s waiting… get a move on |
| My time you won’t not be extremely careful with that ink pen… or |
| Bust stuffing waltzes in smug… extending a metaphor |
| As I hang this inexpensively framed license to practice taxidermy on the wall |
| you… tear…"he's certified…" for real… |
| No crocodile… no tough shell… dull blades, less formaldehyde |
| To finish 'er up… some grooming here, a glass eye there… |
| Needle thread… whooahla! |
| nothing’s prolonged… you make the room |
| Subtly off-setting the bearskin rug and lusciously upholstered ottoman… |
| Hardcore… far from… treasure of the trove |
| Boy… you'd better snuggle up in a passive voice… or… |
| Carry on and leave me no choice…"who's the vaporizer?" |
| It’s the boy in me that binds a worldly gutted man’s angst to change |
| Celebratory delta paints shit-eating grins |
| On what you and mirrors think my face looks like… |
| Visuals expecting this alone despite |
| A nothing dissimilar has prepared its most stable student |
| With number 2 pencils and a sick sense of humor. |
| prude lent |
| Me a whopping six years of fun in the sun… i see it all… you blink… |
| To be blinded and amused, cheering, clapping, palms vermilion… |
| To raw-soar…never feeling a note… |
| I could cry for you all but empathy… wept smudges what’s wrote |
| To lock, stock and barrel surroundings with quotes |
| Coffee through corners of loose leaf… my later on |
| Environmental processing unit. |
| and you say cheese |
| In a torrid three-piece tunic… |
| So I can bank their drift and fill a page to it… |
| Golly, I’ll lead 'em all second hand virgins out of the grain shortage |
| With a no longer lit roach and thimble full of prestigious… or |
| I may find your devoted half-mast and shift thick skin to brash |
| And show you sad’s six-hundredth and something shade… |
| Swearing solemnly you’ll see no parts of unscathed… |
| Do though, consider this frame of mmm. |
| molestation |
| More than a suspect identity roast… |
| Since it’s really your last hippity hiphoppin' hope |
| And open gets no wider as I provide for your cope… |
| With twice the substance and conversely quadruple the texturizer |
| Who’s the… prey tell… who's the vaporizer? |