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Dance Monkey
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Song Info
Charts
#73,285 in subgenre Peak #28
Charts
Peak #71
Author
Sage Francis
Uploaded
May 23, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.6 MB 128 kbps 2:53
Lyrics
song: Dance Monkey written by: Sage Francis album: A Healthy Distrust label: Epitaph Records take me to your cult leader. take me to your local drug dealer. take me to the man in the mirror when you stand and deliver with your hand on the trigger. an emotional terrorist. i-m-m-u-n-e. i never make my enemy public. i'm a private dancer...dancing for money. dance monkey! dance, you god damn monkey! case one carries a paint gun. she's unafraid to wave it when she's getting her face done. her favorite radio station is a permanent paid vacation burning her face in the sun. she loves repetitive songs that keep playing. you know, the repetitive songs that keep playing. she learned all the words and she works it, baby. dangerously catchy and she feels it in her cervix lately. 'cause the rhythm is a cancer and she's on a secret diet, a private viewing, disease-free tv pilot. she saw the future in a group study. they threw money in her pants... dance monkey! dance, you god damn monkey! don't live for the moment. live for the constant. die for what's right or get killed by your conscience. there's a difference between conscience, conscious and conscientious. contrary to popular belief, you're none of these. there's plenty to feed the empty mouths of the nest-bound. they're kept down and apes won't be banging on their chests proud when pace makers are fragile. they hate the taste of capsules. they feed their face with paxil. females hate their dads still. holy sons got mommy issues on deck at the podium, holding tongues with the rituals more complex than napoleon. i told him...it isn't his job to live in a fog. i don't have a god complex...you've got a simple god! take me to your cult leader. take me to your local drug dealer. take me to the man in the mirror when you stand and deliver with your hand on the trigger...and a can of miller in the other. you can't kill me, motherfucker! i've got your number...you best disconnect before i call it. the bumper sticker on your forehead is a wrong fit. when the bomb hits...whose music will you look to for shelter? when the bomb hits...whose music will you look to for shelter? when the bomb hits...whose music will you look to for shelter? not that mine will help ya. dih-dih-dih-dih-dance!
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