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MP3 3.4 MB • 128 kbps • 3:45
Lyrics
The heat's up enough to make one perspire/when the vice squad does business with Milo Minderbinder/The one collecting the finder's fee ought to be me/but I'm swimming across the sea with a half a dozen sharks trailing me/All after my anatomy/A source of ridicule like Boo Radley has brought demons down to their knees/out of a sense of duty, and not to please/we only act when Lady Godiva proceeds with her strip tease/But I've seen cruel intentions compromised/when slime is poured on wise guys, then hey, you're doing fine/I got one request, though, you gotta cut me in/so I don't pretend that we share the same soul within/I'd rather surf a meteor or deal with a crucifixtion/My fate is twisting in the wind, whether or not I live in sin/If you're not born again with each passing of the sun's rays/then all you do is relive Michael and Samir's Mondays
I'm secure in knowing that I know nothing/but I'm still trudging along thanks to the ether huffing/Trying to outmuscle these imposters, I'm so bothered/they should populate Davey Jones' locker like a wired mobster/Yeah, you can say that again, foes and friends/these deviants and anarchists make larvae hatch beneath my skin/An author with a pen, and a dangerous mind/Has so many hills to climb but much treasure to find/So blind, was I, at first, to the marketing blitz/that it blurred for me the lines of reality and fiction/You got the fixings for carpentry swimming in the veins/Or just a germ infested clump clogging artery mains/The right move that doesn't include strict provisions/for a can of ass whipping is a terrible decision/The wrong ideas coming from a Caesar sized leader/are capable of taking us to fields far greener
With uninvited guests knocking, resort to glock cocking/but only with an open mind, hey, maybe they're all potheads/Maybe they're dishonest, are they ghouls with false confidence?/sometimes, under the mask, it's all a bunch of softness/I'm tossing, I'm turning, contorting quilts and white satin/Vivid flashbacks, the focus:all the vermin laughing/After the laughter comes tears, a sick offering of balance/I'm probably deaf now to the sound of fulcrums crackin'/Dammit all, dammit all to holy hell/what a lowly smell emanating from that holy well/The daisy field's charred by daisy cutters, motherfucker/somewhere an heiress vomits up a hundred dollar supper/Lucky me, I got my own assasin's number/he once aimed his rifle at me and the coward stuttered/Does that mean I'm supposed to sow seeds of sorrow/because what's right today may turn out wrong tomorrow?
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