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letra de good morning - cunabear

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view me powerless in the face of mortal men

my demi-god complex is still prevalent and relevant
experts say that sp00ks is 10 for 10
better than he’s ever been

today’s lesson is about the functions of a red-eyed, bum-f-ck, stoner making something of his talents

open your books and lets begin

(it is the morning.)
wide awake yet still unconscious from the binge drinking of two nights before when i bid a thermal “fair winds” to my subst-tution family

(and it’s the feeling)
i can’t shake that i’m missing key ingredients to my frog tongue soup
was it the frog?
(or just the tongue?)
sever ties on fridays nights
just ask the knights to use his giant’s knife

make a clean cut. clear cut
one motherf-cker across his lateral vertices then dice him up
send him down the conveyor belt of scrambled human sushi squares
(it fits him well)
he was kind of a square anyway
(never went out much)
he’d just stay inside and m-st-rbate

braggadocios executioner found himself hung by the noose he tied for me
i say f-ck it
that’s what you get for guiding men to gallows when they know they should be free

me and my fellow inmates will watch the peasant crowds cause anarchy while we light up our only cigarette and take turns puffing smoke in victory

and as our evil counterparts find pleasure in women, gold, and jewelry
we’re on the watch tower with flaming arrows one-by-one offing these devils so we can send their corpses as offerings to the retro-philosopher king

he likes to handle things old school
(yet and still)
he likes to learn and grow and keep what you k!ll

i think i like his queen a little better than he does
i might have to slip his bed into the moat and hope for his sake that 24 karat pride can help him float

(i’m a struggler)

always have been
always will
i’m so far outside the box that i never even had one
i don’t like the prospect of only being creative when it suits you best
or only mastering one art so the other kids can have their pick

let ’em swim in the oil spill
let ’em dry their tears with ironic guilt
cause yeah it’s not his fault that he’s so f-cking hard to deal with
but he should know by now that not trying doesn’t make you human

(release the bats!)

they circle my humble home in attack formation
i sequestered me and alfred to the safety of this cave we found
visual 360 rotation to find the cave in which you hide is the place where all your fears reside

you’re a man and i’m your master
wax and wane your enterprise in cycles
i place your dry bones in a shrine for when your family hears you can’t come home

you belong here
(no, you really don’t belong here)
stay as long as you wish
just don’t touch my weed, my girl, my cash, my cat, or the brand-new satellite dish

i compete for everything i want no matter how chrome my silver spoon is
my body is stainless steel against the concrete
wrecking ball my providence toward the curtain call
i need advice on using harsh cold words to burn tongues

goodmorning to you sir
(i feel i’m in a proper place today
i just really hope it stays that way)

goodmorning to you sir
(i want a sand-box kind of kingdom
where the waters never reaps the harvest
of all your beloved fascinations)

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS

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