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[Intro] |
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I've been having hallucinations |
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[Hook] x2 |
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I got style, I know the routine |
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Y'all punks popping junk can't join my team |
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[Verse 1: Rob Sonic] |
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Down in the meadow with the hungry hound-dog |
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With a sidecar helmet and 800 pound conch |
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Cradling a calico growling ************ft towards |
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The thorn in his paw and his call ignored |
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Falling on his sword so that calling all guards |
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To the zoot suit riot get your giants on guard |
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With a roof boost gesture rocky dive bombs |
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Eye of the goliath fly his Monty Pythons |
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Circusing his Burger King sesame seed bun |
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Fred parry berry with the weatherby re-runs |
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Rent-a-ski beach bum with the broken Oakleys |
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When he Hang Ten men for the locals only |
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Rowboat slowly to the Roanoke docks |
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And trade a musket for a bucket full of hobo socks |
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And a rose gold watch, and a rototom |
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And take a selfie with a selkie as a photobomb |
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He give it how he get it and he got it bad |
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A flare gun tucked in his locked calash |
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For the hell of it and benefit of Mrs. White |
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In the kitchen with the television clicker, right? |
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No clue, no news, xanny-tabs |
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Boat shoes, gold tooth, fanny packs |
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In some fancy pants and a stussy hat |
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Just because I'm mother******' bringin' ugly back |
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[Hook] x4 |
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[Verse 2: Aesop Rock] |
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Down in the meadow |
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Darkening the heels |
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Of the down-and-out animals |
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Of dower day and sour mouth |
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Will empty from a crowded train |
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Oversee an evil plot |
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And blend in with the basic layman |
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Hey man, is that freedom rock? |
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Yeah man, it balances the give and take of spinning plates |
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While easing the transition from efficient to a living grave |
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What started with a single flaming arrow |
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Would grow into a figure 8 of incubated ammo |
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In a blink, blammo, we cold packed the jam |
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No cold pack so Cro-Magnon man |
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Won't hold back homie |
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Start a cult, paint the world black |
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Old world magic, of a re-imagined skull snaps hope |
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Nun bells ring for the plebian |
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Melted down slow and poured into a fringe medium |
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Picture it by poorly tinted sepia |
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Ensuring its remembered as a |
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More important story than it really was |
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What it really is |
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A culture of chameleons |
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Who must erupt a hairy eyeball |
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Deep behind the peeling skin |
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Hold fam, declawed knee-high |
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House cats bred with |
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Tin cans pre-tied |
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Drink from the river |
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'til he return three eyed |
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Talkin back to a Beefheart B-side |
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If anybodies listening, I need a new apar**ent |
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Something spooky with a garden |
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Pardon |
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[Hook] x4 |
