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letra de reality sandwich - busdriver

i’m a mail runner
squished between an erupting street and an exploding sky
in a hail of numbers
i’m [?] between knuckles and forces i [?] out of trojan horses
to screams [“i see bloodsuckers”?] i sit undressed in fuddruckers [?] motherf-ckers
but while i record a sound the motion pictures meet
because i’m where rivers and oceans great each other
and i spent the day at the fool party with an anti-flag
instead of being at the pool party with a scantily clad
walking b–b job whose sn-b, i grip on her nipples when i speak to her
[?] and artificial sweetener
[?] into a jar of pickles and i’m obscene with her because i’m a reality sandwich
clumsy ugly unflinching with a side of mayo tomatoes [?] and a [?] brought to you
when i beckon the word the [?] cries to me but you can’t sound it out [?]
your ideal talent scout, the voice of reasoning between to pieces of bread that
[?] and speaks to the dead
but to hang out with us you need a lot of duct tape
and a wallet sized photo of your brainstem
because i’ve [?] dj way up in [?] and often relay race [?] with your ears shrieking when it sounds
you’ve probably made a wrong turn when you wanted to end up in the lyricist lounge
you know [?] found over there but over hear we undergo a fiercest scrounge
to compile a style ball for your reality sandwich

would you care to take a bite of this reality sandwich?
i think i’ve seen that you’ve nibbled on my reality sandwich

i’m an airborne pathogen
mushed between sheet music and a composer’s eye
the rarest form of craftsmen
i feel that i get beat tapes from the omnipotent
but he has cr-ppy drum tracks and [?]
and i don’t have a snappy comeback
what do you expect from a moldy reality sandwich and unhappy lunch sack?
but it wants a little taste
because i’m a nerd eating pimple paste who used to work in a missile base
building weapons of m-ss destruction
but now i form shrubs instead of nuclear arms i give open armed hugs
but what would you know about that you live in burbank and me i have a word bank
you wore a necktie to accentuate your crotch
i usually to meditate and squat, like a menstruating tw-t
or would you rather count the units that my songs are selling
sitting on the front porch eating some watermelon
but how can you feel that way about a sparring heavy weight
who changes his appearance like fletch staring chevy chase
but when i go to work, i can’t seem to put my car in an empty sp-ce
because i flunk or fail to the point that my panderous box is full of junk mail
so i pull the skunk sail and get more [?] said the risktaker and comp-ss [?] rather be an unfit benchwarmer
if i play it safe the turntable becomes a cotton gin
my rotten [?] is my pixelated nirvana
i lay untouched in a room of hungry buzzards
in order to take that first bite you need a lot of honey mustard
i tried the reality sandwich and now i sleep in an airbed speaking to ground control
i’m kind of a square peg in a round hole kind of guy
you know the songs over, when my fingers and the drum machine
have been run over by a lawn mower

the songs over!

(yeah)

would you like to have a bite of this reality sandwich?
my shelf life ain’t the half life of an isotope but i feel like the afterlife has always been twice as dope
would you care to take a bite of this reality sandwich?

- busdriver

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