| Song | Waterlines |
| Artist | Why? |
| Album | Mumps, Etc. |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| I’m something unheard and bound under harbor sound, | |
| but my words are heard loud when I’m on the mound. | |
| And with the vocal duress of a lone thrush in a bush, | |
| that’s a quote from a book of my local press push. | |
| The doctor of ramble and word scramble, | |
| from the land of proctor and gamble and cop scandals. | |
| Rocking soccer socks in sandals like yeah bro, | |
| Talking crude a tad too verbose and way too close. | |
| I’m colder than most, | |
| older than the youth. | |
| Always under oath | |
| and sober in the booth. | |
| One man’s filth is another man’s truth. | |
| Big mouth filled with one long tooth. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves in your late twenties, wanna make money. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves with three tens you’d gladly ante on the wind. | |
| The crucibles proof and fire fused, poof, | |
| with the liars view under my skirt up. Dude, | |
| You wanna peruse the tattoos you heard word of? | |
| Any excuse I can use to move my shirt off. | |
| Girls used the fawn over my locks to kill. | |
| Now the girls are gone and I’m on minoxidil. | |
| I’m in decline but women like be jocking still | |
| cause I rhyme with skill and talk so chill and youthful. | |
| Bird dog in the mating yard to be truthful. | |
| Quake 89 trading cards with me tubes | |
| so three white felt gloves are crucial. | |
| Yes the one left one right one neutral. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves on stage running for fame wanting. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves well known, you learn you’re only more alone. | |
| I can’t sleep in rental cars or airlines, yo | |
| and so I keep a deck of cards for down time. | |
| The road and other solo christmas and valentines. | |
| No it’s not the hobo’s wish list i had in mind. | |
| Then when I’m free off a mission | |
| I’m sorta like filled with ennui, indecision, and more strife. | |
| Life long bouts with depression, lone fights. | |
| Down in the town unheaven, I’m fine in time, though. | |
| Standing with the will to start a bike up hill with pride. | |
| Ringing the bell and riding straight outta hell. | |
| But waterlines fine like ink from porcupine’s quils | |
| are etched beneath my skull, but that’s all. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves in the late morning come awake yearning? | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves amongst friends attempt to blend in with the men? | |
| I’d prefer to be some unknown with a sports car, | |
| than pen the dump pun poems as a poor star. | |
| You wanna just come home through the courtyard | |
| your son run to greet you with the perfect report card. |
| I' m something unheard and bound under harbor sound, | |
| but my words are heard loud when I' m on the mound. | |
| And with the vocal duress of a lone thrush in a bush, | |
| that' s a quote from a book of my local press push. | |
| The doctor of ramble and word scramble, | |
| from the land of proctor and gamble and cop scandals. | |
| Rocking soccer socks in sandals like yeah bro, | |
| Talking crude a tad too verbose and way too close. | |
| I' m colder than most, | |
| older than the youth. | |
| Always under oath | |
| and sober in the booth. | |
| One man' s filth is another man' s truth. | |
| Big mouth filled with one long tooth. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves in your late twenties, wanna make money. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves with three tens you' d gladly ante on the wind. | |
| The crucibles proof and fire fused, poof, | |
| with the liars view under my skirt up. Dude, | |
| You wanna peruse the tattoos you heard word of? | |
| Any excuse I can use to move my shirt off. | |
| Girls used the fawn over my locks to kill. | |
| Now the girls are gone and I' m on minoxidil. | |
| I' m in decline but women like be jocking still | |
| cause I rhyme with skill and talk so chill and youthful. | |
| Bird dog in the mating yard to be truthful. | |
| Quake 89 trading cards with me tubes | |
| so three white felt gloves are crucial. | |
| Yes the one left one right one neutral. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves on stage running for fame wanting. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves well known, you learn you' re only more alone. | |
| I can' t sleep in rental cars or airlines, yo | |
| and so I keep a deck of cards for down time. | |
| The road and other solo christmas and valentines. | |
| No it' s not the hobo' s wish list i had in mind. | |
| Then when I' m free off a mission | |
| I' m sorta like filled with ennui, indecision, and more strife. | |
| Life long bouts with depression, lone fights. | |
| Down in the town unheaven, I' m fine in time, though. | |
| Standing with the will to start a bike up hill with pride. | |
| Ringing the bell and riding straight outta hell. | |
| But waterlines fine like ink from porcupine' s quils | |
| are etched beneath my skull, but that' s all. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves in the late morning come awake yearning? | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves amongst friends attempt to blend in with the men? | |
| I' d prefer to be some unknown with a sports car, | |
| than pen the dump pun poems as a poor star. | |
| You wanna just come home through the courtyard | |
| your son run to greet you with the perfect report card. |
| I' m something unheard and bound under harbor sound, | |
| but my words are heard loud when I' m on the mound. | |
| And with the vocal duress of a lone thrush in a bush, | |
| that' s a quote from a book of my local press push. | |
| The doctor of ramble and word scramble, | |
| from the land of proctor and gamble and cop scandals. | |
| Rocking soccer socks in sandals like yeah bro, | |
| Talking crude a tad too verbose and way too close. | |
| I' m colder than most, | |
| older than the youth. | |
| Always under oath | |
| and sober in the booth. | |
| One man' s filth is another man' s truth. | |
| Big mouth filled with one long tooth. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves in your late twenties, wanna make money. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves with three tens you' d gladly ante on the wind. | |
| The crucibles proof and fire fused, poof, | |
| with the liars view under my skirt up. Dude, | |
| You wanna peruse the tattoos you heard word of? | |
| Any excuse I can use to move my shirt off. | |
| Girls used the fawn over my locks to kill. | |
| Now the girls are gone and I' m on minoxidil. | |
| I' m in decline but women like be jocking still | |
| cause I rhyme with skill and talk so chill and youthful. | |
| Bird dog in the mating yard to be truthful. | |
| Quake 89 trading cards with me tubes | |
| so three white felt gloves are crucial. | |
| Yes the one left one right one neutral. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves on stage running for fame wanting. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves well known, you learn you' re only more alone. | |
| I can' t sleep in rental cars or airlines, yo | |
| and so I keep a deck of cards for down time. | |
| The road and other solo christmas and valentines. | |
| No it' s not the hobo' s wish list i had in mind. | |
| Then when I' m free off a mission | |
| I' m sorta like filled with ennui, indecision, and more strife. | |
| Life long bouts with depression, lone fights. | |
| Down in the town unheaven, I' m fine in time, though. | |
| Standing with the will to start a bike up hill with pride. | |
| Ringing the bell and riding straight outta hell. | |
| But waterlines fine like ink from porcupine' s quils | |
| are etched beneath my skull, but that' s all. | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves in the late morning come awake yearning? | |
| Do you all? | |
| When you find yourselves amongst friends attempt to blend in with the men? | |
| I' d prefer to be some unknown with a sports car, | |
| than pen the dump pun poems as a poor star. | |
| You wanna just come home through the courtyard | |
| your son run to greet you with the perfect report card. |