Maintenance

歌詞

[Aesop Rock] Count that for me...thanks [Robotic voice] 4x One, two, one, two, three, four [Aesop Rock] Well any asshole with a book of matches can light a fire fresh Make that sucker burn for days, I'll be impressed surf n' abash the cultured bigot, procreation baked in fanciful Then scurry up the grass to roll his marbles off the anthill I know girth and good nature but recognize absentee ballots and sappy ballads couldn't fill the void it's James and the giant Tugboat Complex and HE'S ANNOYED! (No one's asking you to build an Ark, brother!) Hmm, it's fashion I'll find my own bullies to shake a finger wrapped in Realigned mine eyes in divine justice Plus this uncontrollable laugh with those amber waves of brain finally crash Brimstone clone with legs and dim poems Ten little Zen crafts Things cooperate like paper doll participant litigants Picket well or ride a burner style clinic Acid for the basics P-H imbalance to burn the malice martyrs faceless Then fabricate daytrips I want to be the halo that jumps off the brain Of the genius who decided some pictures deserved frames (God and I are on a first name basis) Yeah I call him God, he calls me Jesus When I lost my religion, he fell to pieces Blade, dragon, up hell's creek Interrupting a devil pageant Starfighter settling to madness I keep my ghoul spirit concealed Until the warriors return to the Coney Isle Wonder Wheel [Chorus] 4x My momma told me there'd be days like this Days like this, days like this, days like this (yes she did) [Robotic voice] 4x One, two, one, two, three, four [Aesop Rock] Okay, tell me who you chill with and I'll tell you who you are I walk a mile with a leash attached to your freak seminar It's a modern sensation on the boulevards of maintenance To sweep your broken hopes under the rug then hug the playpen This revolution pushing through the loose pins and a strait-jacketed maverick classed in a bunk category They had him parallel with a tattered glory division (I could devil drink dreams out of thermos) Yeah, with a whiskey afterburn It's like, nine o'clock wake (I'm up) spit obscenities My girl ties on my cape, smoke a bone then work my deviltry The clear day's laced with a classic mother nature thunderchaser set That got my paper crane's wings wet Voyeurist amendments lacked expansive coverage in the syllabus I dance with chuckles while you man the keyhole grilling post I've done my chores according to God's schedule With coffee holding the wheel and nicotine working the pedals Metal edged canes that tends to repel the bevel Kettle screeching out the operetta I live to autograph the iron curtain with dove's back feather pens Spurting magma, cursing television earns the burdens of my Cleopatra Minor (Major) dispersed slap on the wrist For the tenants lacking arms to harbor the rarity of thick friendship Sunk with a "Yes sir" Chained to fatigued ankle leagues beneath the angle I'ma call home until the rock meets the angels Chorus 4x [Robotic voice] *repeat to fade* One, two, one, two, three, four