Song | Mr. Blessington’s Imperialist Plot |
Artist | Astronautalis |
Album | DANCEHALLHORNSOUND!! |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
Pretty Patricia was a nervous wreck | |
Deadened by the Darvocet | |
Furnished by a charlatan | |
Posing as a pharmacist | |
Propped behind a pearly desk | |
She hoists the phone with burdened breath | |
And hands she holds for reasons wanton | |
Is the whirling dervish games | |
This is just the receptionist | |
The skeletons and hallowed halls | |
Outnumber every worker bee buzzing right through this honey comb | |
And I am just a lonely drone | |
With a notepad and a picture phone | |
Whose nectar is a collection of transgressions and subversive flaws | |
Darrell's darling carries all of HR on his back | |
Can only hide Gisette because the fetish waftings of croquettes | |
Well Mrs. Darla’s down the hall | |
She keeps a watchful eye | |
It's on accounts receivable | |
Leaving it blind to the concubine | |
Lady Darla’s not the cleanest | |
Grape inside the crops | |
She keeps her eyes inside accountants | |
As she skims right off the top | |
Her saccharine little skins of cream | |
She sneaks out in her hosiery | |
To hopefully she pumps the petty plunder in the slots | |
Every now and then | |
The best laid plans of mice and men | |
Fall apart at hands | |
Of unassuming champions | |
Collecting all the dirt | |
To build a tower to the sky | |
Slaving in this basement | |
One day this will all be mine | |
One day this will all be mine | |
One day this will all be mine | |
She was so outwardly nonpareil | |
I was enraptured by the act | |
Of cracking her seamless shell | |
Catching Esteban with hand in his till is muy facil | |
But this girl's skills are past the run of the mill | |
We command with abandon the plot | |
Take what he got | |
Setting up shop with a cloud 8 view at the top | |
And everybody’s got bones | |
Hers are harder to spot | |
With her appointments pinned down and her hair done up | |
I devote everything that I’ve got | |
To stalking this fox | |
There's got to be a fracture in her porcelain plot | |
That’s where I slipped up | |
Lost in her wash | |
She doubled back upon her tracks and she caught me off guard | |
She’s impossibly smart | |
I am defeated at my own game | |
Caught me collecting dirt | |
To blackmail them for my own gain | |
A tower made of dirt | |
Is just a castle built from glass | |
And a pocket full of stones until the last one's cast | |
Every now and then | |
The best laid plans of mice and men | |
Fall apart at hands | |
Of unassuming champions | |
Collecting so much dirt | |
That I was buried down alive | |
Slaving in this basement | |
Until the day I die | |
Until the day I die | |
Until the day I die |
Pretty Patricia was a nervous wreck | |
Deadened by the Darvocet | |
Furnished by a charlatan | |
Posing as a pharmacist | |
Propped behind a pearly desk | |
She hoists the phone with burdened breath | |
And hands she holds for reasons wanton | |
Is the whirling dervish games | |
This is just the receptionist | |
The skeletons and hallowed halls | |
Outnumber every worker bee buzzing right through this honey comb | |
And I am just a lonely drone | |
With a notepad and a picture phone | |
Whose nectar is a collection of transgressions and subversive flaws | |
Darrell' s darling carries all of HR on his back | |
Can only hide Gisette because the fetish waftings of croquettes | |
Well Mrs. Darla' s down the hall | |
She keeps a watchful eye | |
It' s on accounts receivable | |
Leaving it blind to the concubine | |
Lady Darla' s not the cleanest | |
Grape inside the crops | |
She keeps her eyes inside accountants | |
As she skims right off the top | |
Her saccharine little skins of cream | |
She sneaks out in her hosiery | |
To hopefully she pumps the petty plunder in the slots | |
Every now and then | |
The best laid plans of mice and men | |
Fall apart at hands | |
Of unassuming champions | |
Collecting all the dirt | |
To build a tower to the sky | |
Slaving in this basement | |
One day this will all be mine | |
One day this will all be mine | |
One day this will all be mine | |
She was so outwardly nonpareil | |
I was enraptured by the act | |
Of cracking her seamless shell | |
Catching Esteban with hand in his till is muy facil | |
But this girl' s skills are past the run of the mill | |
We command with abandon the plot | |
Take what he got | |
Setting up shop with a cloud 8 view at the top | |
And everybody' s got bones | |
Hers are harder to spot | |
With her appointments pinned down and her hair done up | |
I devote everything that I' ve got | |
To stalking this fox | |
There' s got to be a fracture in her porcelain plot | |
That' s where I slipped up | |
Lost in her wash | |
She doubled back upon her tracks and she caught me off guard | |
She' s impossibly smart | |
I am defeated at my own game | |
Caught me collecting dirt | |
To blackmail them for my own gain | |
A tower made of dirt | |
Is just a castle built from glass | |
And a pocket full of stones until the last one' s cast | |
Every now and then | |
The best laid plans of mice and men | |
Fall apart at hands | |
Of unassuming champions | |
Collecting so much dirt | |
That I was buried down alive | |
Slaving in this basement | |
Until the day I die | |
Until the day I die | |
Until the day I die |
Pretty Patricia was a nervous wreck | |
Deadened by the Darvocet | |
Furnished by a charlatan | |
Posing as a pharmacist | |
Propped behind a pearly desk | |
She hoists the phone with burdened breath | |
And hands she holds for reasons wanton | |
Is the whirling dervish games | |
This is just the receptionist | |
The skeletons and hallowed halls | |
Outnumber every worker bee buzzing right through this honey comb | |
And I am just a lonely drone | |
With a notepad and a picture phone | |
Whose nectar is a collection of transgressions and subversive flaws | |
Darrell' s darling carries all of HR on his back | |
Can only hide Gisette because the fetish waftings of croquettes | |
Well Mrs. Darla' s down the hall | |
She keeps a watchful eye | |
It' s on accounts receivable | |
Leaving it blind to the concubine | |
Lady Darla' s not the cleanest | |
Grape inside the crops | |
She keeps her eyes inside accountants | |
As she skims right off the top | |
Her saccharine little skins of cream | |
She sneaks out in her hosiery | |
To hopefully she pumps the petty plunder in the slots | |
Every now and then | |
The best laid plans of mice and men | |
Fall apart at hands | |
Of unassuming champions | |
Collecting all the dirt | |
To build a tower to the sky | |
Slaving in this basement | |
One day this will all be mine | |
One day this will all be mine | |
One day this will all be mine | |
She was so outwardly nonpareil | |
I was enraptured by the act | |
Of cracking her seamless shell | |
Catching Esteban with hand in his till is muy facil | |
But this girl' s skills are past the run of the mill | |
We command with abandon the plot | |
Take what he got | |
Setting up shop with a cloud 8 view at the top | |
And everybody' s got bones | |
Hers are harder to spot | |
With her appointments pinned down and her hair done up | |
I devote everything that I' ve got | |
To stalking this fox | |
There' s got to be a fracture in her porcelain plot | |
That' s where I slipped up | |
Lost in her wash | |
She doubled back upon her tracks and she caught me off guard | |
She' s impossibly smart | |
I am defeated at my own game | |
Caught me collecting dirt | |
To blackmail them for my own gain | |
A tower made of dirt | |
Is just a castle built from glass | |
And a pocket full of stones until the last one' s cast | |
Every now and then | |
The best laid plans of mice and men | |
Fall apart at hands | |
Of unassuming champions | |
Collecting so much dirt | |
That I was buried down alive | |
Slaving in this basement | |
Until the day I die | |
Until the day I die | |
Until the day I die |