Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Rubber Bullies, artist - Tropical Fuck Storm. Album song A Laughing Death in Meatspace, in the genre Альтернатива
Date of issue: 03.05.2018
Record label: Joyful Noise Recordings
Song language: English
Rubber Bullies |
This supermarket aircon’s freezing man |
I’m feeling like I’m dying |
It’s a half hour after midnight |
And all the fluoros zapped my appetite |
It don’t make choosing easy |
I’m waiting for a sign |
Some miracle of marketing |
To save me from these aisles |
Then it’s omega man amnesia |
In the narrow night time streets |
That capsize in their puddles |
With their storm clouds and their sleeps |
Discreet wet dreams and nightmares |
Seclusion, side by side |
The world’s way too connected |
And all anybody does is fight |
Staging their crypto inquisitions |
All in multiple choice, like: |
Anything that screws you’s |
Surely sured up by its bulk and… |
A: better organised? |
B: better mobilised? |
C: getting monetised? |
D: can’t be criticised? |
You better hold on |
And get it right |
You better hold on |
The whole world’s gonna pass you by |
Oh how why |
Time seems to fly |
Oh how why |
Life passed me by |
Take me on a holiday |
Put me on an aeroplane |
I wanna BMW |
I wanna be immortal in my lifetime too |
There’s a stone wall ‘round a citadel |
There’s a city made of glass |
Certain pasts want certain futures |
Certain futures certain pasts |
And there’s a building site on Sesame Street |
All party donor-backed |
It’s all footlong sub divisions |
Built so cheap they won’t outlast |
Your disapproval or their doormats |
Built by the sycophants |
Of plutocrats and idiots big on |
Firm handshakes and eye contact |
The water pressure’s pitiless and all the restaurants shut by eight |
The walls are made of plywood |
When they should be armour plate |
You better hold on |
Its gonna fly |
Here comes a letter to the occupant |
Here comes the caveat — an eye for an eye |
Oh how why |
You know the end is nigh |
So take me on a holiday |
Put me on an aeroplane |
Just take me on a holiday |
And put me on an aeroplane |
Oh how time |
Where we going now? |
To that terrace over Rio |
With a bougainvillea vines |
Where the heat finally nailed me |
So we stayed the extra night |
And then the guard up in the watchtower |
Charged with keeping out the fighting |
Joked the difference between sexes |
All boils down to their handwriting |
And when we checked out the next morning |
We were on a first name basis |
But then he had the kind of features |
Where you can’t recall his face |
But it wouldn’t have been that much later he saw God’s |
‘Cause he died staring up the nostrils |
Of a UPP shotgun |
He couldn’t hold on |
He couldn’t fly |
Wrong place wrong time is something of an understatement |
The world went passed him by |
Oh how why |
Time seems to fly |
Oh how why |
Where we going now? |