Empty things
♪
She's calling
She's calling me tonight
From just inside my lips
And I'll write her
Betterment of the world through wish
Wish I'd fall off, growing distant
I'll write her
And pull my face fresh
From the waxy palms it's kept soft in (There's something to the fading of faith)
My whole childhood was the broken guitar
And my sister's silly yellow blanket
Now I carry slender and sexy curved sledgehammers
To break the bricks I bought
I should have never went to college
But took a trip to Costa Rica to cut rainforests
To choke myself
Making up Miss Bobafetet as I go along
And rejecting the truths that I've been served
Making up Miss Bobafetet as I go along
And rejecting the truths that I've been served (Fool in)
Besides
Tuition for my countenance
Pressed fine in reverse block
Style print
A product of cave drawings
Gone automated
With these loafers and a check book
Twisted tightly into... into
I know! A stiletto
Do you know how many times I've thought about writing about the paper I'm writing on?
Do you know how many times I've thought about writing about the paper I'm writing on?
I lost my liquid tongue for the wet pen
I have one mortal wish (I don't even know where I've been)
In the basement, hugging the gas main
Something's been left out of this game
God, did you remember to render everything?
I've seen 1078 Sundays and
7 borders where the liquid meets land
I've even seen stars
Now where the fuck, where the fuck is anti-emptiness?
I'm leaking into stoned and severed existence
I've been consumed by my own breath
♪
Change of face, shapeless
Personality switch, transformation
So impersonation of self leads
Crowds in twos to disintegration
Who's in the basement choking a puppet on the pedestal? (Pedestal?)
Let a stool pigeon escort those who contort
Three doors down into the left door on the right hand side
My hand slides into pockets
Pull sockets of lead penalty
Orbs of red energy
Entering the orbit of the morbid
Northern and southern hemispheres of play capsule
Place time bombs and rose stems on your axle
Clear case
Hole in faded ozone layer of doom
Sphere of babylon shield
Towering above gravity
Taking up space in a residence of stars
A touching story of ungrateful velcro skulled boy
With his tored-off face
And the life-sized sacked marionette
He'd thought looked an awful lot like him
With his time told and mildewed baby clothes of a businessman
Jerk... wackoff slumped
And he's tired, sick with bad posturing
One can't hold in
Oh hell, there's a king of jungle in him yet
Give our young lad middle of America's valise
But spare the gauze, he's losing poet by the gallon
Glory, glory
Bottom of the quicksand's gonna give him a
Whole lot less to think about
Than change that steel trap perspective would
Perhaps
I ain't a scared no more, to make a' the difference (I've been living in a record)
Stolen heart, and a whole wide world to blame (Skipped filmstrip)
I'm falling off the side of the boat (And when I hit water)
I'm falling off the side of the boat (I fall asleep hoping)
Tomorrow tastes like poems and honeysuckle
I move slow cause the sky looks bluer
When you fuck the order of the day
Or the way the shelves were meant to fit
I wish I had a pair of stilts to wear
While I play the flute in some light-traffic hallway in my old high school
But these are only threats to the seated self
Maybe Spain is the open-faced smile
From some life I saw in a movie
And always thought I'd live
♪
Jackpot!
Congratulations!
Space is potent