Citronella

[Intro] I stood before the glittery borders of new radius In search of the fabled city of mud and crushed velvet What I found was a gutter where the love of entertainment Meets the lust for blood and demerits [Verse 1] Cutters of the pie throw your summers in the sky Collar-pop Jolly Roger die motherfucker die Apache on a ship shape, in Bristol fashion Snuck a jammy through the red tape and tiptoed past him Worm teeth grinding feverishly below As little organic hacksaws eager to feed and grow So when it's Blackhawk over the glass walk They surface up through the cash crops With clippers for your belly-up mascots and never dine alone Meanwhile, back at sea level, it was home by home zone for zone Bloom County's homeless riot for home ownership I hope you put gas in the motor-home and know the roads I studied with the finest combs stuck under my thumb As opposed to the loaded nose who pray Armageddon is numb And that's unevenly rendered To those who grew up thinking faith was a surrender of reason But not a reason to surrender Catch the Liberty Fire's catalog Forty torched orchids and citronella for Algernon Don and Vagabond alike repent This shit should have been Beta burns Babylon, the end [Hook] And when the radio stars climbed up out of the floors To murder the medium that shot 'em thirty years before They said Kill television Kill television Kill television Difficult isn't it And when the cutters of the pie throw their summers in the sky No love lost baby, the future is so bright Kill television Kill television Kill television Difficult isn't it [Verse 2] Nothing says charm like an armored car Taking the clone-farm 'tards to the arms bazaar We were the homemade marker makers born to pour the marsh ink into right guard parts And march through the gauntlet of car alarms No harps, no delusions of losing with something prettier Than ash around the metacarpal still clutching the teddy bears But we can run with scissors through the city fair Or situate the nuzzle with the subtle art of splitting hairs Double park the shuttle, some will arc the funneled cutty sark Where budding narcs target the gushing heart in the muddy Clarks These are the vices of the p-noid bastards Who will chew whatever tablets blur the axioms fastest But crews lose lunches by the hundreds Lose electricity, lose gas, phone, plumbing Humming keep your mouth closed Keep your cows cloned, go I am the pulse of this fucking town homes know My what a convenient embargo At least I'll always know which side of the gun I'm supposed to buy the farm from The too-far-gone kicks, still in the box Fix, still in the pill in his sock Chilling, gill in the slop and a million watch Gideon scribes But once the arc honor pussy and bribes, the animals will divide And that's a win for the garish who keep charity in the parish While profiting off the lack of a marriage amongst the classes [Hook] [Verse 3] The mobile infantry is so postal Coast into the quotient provoking the local Pistol Pete Choking his liberty and justice quotas and cloaking his folk in smithereens Smokey little pile of bloody pulp and co-dependencies Dopey, no surrender, bender in effect Sole defenders of the longest night New York had never slept And there were jumping jacks and whistlers over Christmas Like Rockets From The Crypt spilling the festive morning beverage of your preference I step in Hog Heaven, stony, with no weapons Pissing on teleprompters, selling megaphones to hecklers Who broadcast eighty million versions of the sermon For that one indisputable masterpiece before the curtains Pale, Arcadian moon, high-definition, flat plasma IMAX, city-wide transfer Artificial Einstein-Rosen out the tenement Ease into the Xanadu, let it hammer the tension out I'm talking cool, calm, dominant phenomenal Monitor face to the wall opposite U.F.O.'s and locusts sing the same old song While the Weathermen get retarded as the day is long [Hook]