Oxygen

[Introduction:] I'm twice born, once in 7-something Once as the resurrection of honorable function Been shoveling coal as the engine's doctor Long enough to see my silhouette acquire a permanent kink in the posture The maintenance of icicle spirit by the warmth of true endearment Was, is, and forever will be a luxury I'm a sovereignty columnist fathering doom document Curséd version of a certain Virgin Mary womb occupant [Interlude (spoken):] (Oh my Lord, what have I gotten myself into? Seems like I woke up in yesterday again Another day, another dream…) [Verse One:] I know swamp rats who never suckled oxygen purification Sure as blurry mayhem had ‘em spent (Zen freeze) Stuck until my friend leaves, puppet for the plummet committee Sputtering bum, numb enough to stomach the city Who’s that hugging the silhouetted willows where the hill’s crest pan out? Barter candy-coated crab apples and sugar-dipped death hand outs I got a plan, I'll tourniquet my quest Then feed a needle in the bad ending to mute the mess When patience gallops with absentee ballots, I shove in the button Strutting to exhibit mankind’s hostility function with a (heave) Paling in comparison to Matthias, Goliath Lies the rickety frame of the wicked silence I died the day my nameless creator and I bumped eyelids Swear to Christ we saw the same thing for a second (What’s that?) The grand mosaic depicting historical glory of the legend Nursed me through the time stick-and-stone mixers hexed my fertile crescent Now all's well, I'm laughing on the inside I swear Just trying to keep my head above red tide despair My imperfections pair off with buddy system symmetrics morbidly So every second of discontent’s logged accordingly Now let’s turn mummy subtle perfection to preserve glory condition And pray for the day a starchild tugs the ribbon Better land a two-hand grip on that spoonful-of-sugar medical chaser Credible crazer antidote's terrible, taste her Barter with a Stolen Soul Peddler, pigeon backed feather pen Never said a grin implied health Consider me a mobile advertisement for that hybrid blend of fabrics I deemed practical Now is you is or is you ain’t compatible? I feel the wind in my opinions Plus hyper clutched to crush one’s gingerbread tenement awful It’s like the day the great oak met the sawmill A lifeline of spectacular expansion meets the reaper at the hand of one man’s tantrums My friend’s got a book about dreams. I look and laugh I dreamed a book about my friends and still can’t decipher the half Chatterbox. Now let a soothsayer major cater to a kinked breed Battered on the brink of disease (Well) I am (skin and bones), I am (sin and poems), I am (tin and chrome) Grin and groans, fuck it, I’m tinted quinacridone Blow the petals off a dandelion trying to make my little gypsy blush And felt as if I’d actually accomplished something Fortify the bullies, let a joke soak in the treatment Sit and watch the percentages teeter on the evening Caught a ghost up in the fuselage seconds before the cog dropped to the sticks And stared him down until he fixed it Oh, fashion? It’s cool and all, but what about God? (Oh God? well he’s the man, but I mean, what about reading?) What like novels? Man, that don’t hold my attention. How about television? (Television hurts my brain. How about walking in the rain?) Oh I hate walking. It’s boring. How about some old-fashioned gone fishin'? (Yeah, fishing’s great, but I just hate hooking the bait. Let’s dance) Nah, I got two left feet plus motion sickness. How about breakfast? (Man I’m hungry, but that means I'mma have to borrow some money) Let’s fly a kite. (Let’s burn the generals). Let’s sell lemonade. (Let’s drink) Let’s poke a hole inside the tugboat, ease on back, and watch it sink (Nah, let’s fail a pupil once a year at random to shake the academy) Casually note the blossom of phantom alignment. (Strategy) [Verse Two] Well, I’ll make a waterfall out of water and autumn Sorta caught ‘em when their guards mimicked the vintage knuckle drag sagged in the coffin I affiliate my rag dummy appearance with a most cohesive spirit Cried a river yesterday, ain’t shed a tear since ‘Gimmie gimmie’, crooned the Old Yeller community cartoon The carousel ballooned extravagant. Aware Inviting, yet I’m sworn to adamant manner and saddle in worn head, thorax, and abdomen To primitive horseback galloping My index finger’s dressed in my talisman Branded up in the jackal skin, I spy mark of the product Well, one must pardon ye old common sheep detour weaving graceful through the prime directive column Pray the virus retreats to allotted phylum Beanstalk with a fiend walk and my name is mud But that’s got a ring to it, so my soil welcomes the flood I walk as God’s practical joke on man, practically broke And if they raise my rent again, I’ll spend my nights practically soaked Who spit silk dimension through the noose looped by the rafters? After lack of reasoning, dead ‘em. (It’s like "three, two, one, bedlam") Ooh, I’m hung. I clung to hope, but see you in hell I’ll be that clear blue icicle that simply refused to melt Sturdy iron grillage, tin can skeleton Skull of a thousand dilapidated dream remnants Here to convict based on a tin bucket of evidence That stairway to heaven’s merely a legend so the peasants dream well [Outro] (Blesséd peasants, blesséd peasant dream well Every blesséd peasant’s just trying to dream well…)