Chain, chained, you waited all day for the delivery son.
You got no gun.
Find time for medicine.
It's obvious that it's about timing and taste.
I'm left with gravity, close shave and fantasy.
You've got rich friends and fangs that don't end.
Looks like another centerfold meets up with a drama coach.
The toxic talk hip, the punishing glib.
This crystal kiss-up lives in Chandelier and the paper tiger loves to watch "Cape Fear" with the untamed folklore riding raw and rear in a rented boxcar.
Yell for all to hear: We're gonna rough it!
Fail, failed, your telephone sailed without a flag of goodbye.
Fuck the third eye.
Follow your birthday with "the end is near," so you steal a cute car from the token queer.
Now the smoke rings make the amber chandelier into a headdress for the universal chair.
So cheer and cheer and cheer and cheer and cheer.
Reach right through the telephone line, wasted all my flow on the opening rhyme.
I would have to die for a nickel and dime in order to lie.
Go, gone, eternally slept on.
The better off stick to a familiar state.
Don't touch the furniture.
Bite down on the bloody lip.
Lovesick? Yes, the batteries died.
Once you're inside, show your secret handshake to the auctioneer in the silver t-shirt that ways "disappear."
You can close a window, you can call it clear, trade your brightest diamond for the nearest chandelier.
Reach right through the telephone line, wasted all my flow on the opening rhyme.
I would have to die for a nickel and dime in order to lie.
Catch, catch, caught the worlds-apart kiss, killing all attention with a deafening blitz.
I would have to die for the land I won't miss in order to life.
Talk, talk, baby, no air anymore.
Throw away your kisses to the burning dance floor.
I would have to sing "my love is rotten to the core" in order to lie to you.