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"Backwash districts sprung from Ra's bright hips Reduced to silkscreen hand job new car ego trips And it's just endless combinations of the same old shit Sloshing back and forth across some continents" All that talking it ain't got no use when it's just mal-digestion that's been haunting you Along with reflux opinions from your ulcer moods You're just a litany of horrors like the evening news but Off somewhere in a New York flat, benzedrine derailed rants of immeasurable frenetic praise That cauterize before they save All the truth now in how you're lying there Shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet All the truth now in how you're lying there in Angelheaded elsewhere so markedly meek Slapped like a has been by syntactic gods whom which the help you find your glasses but not your lower jaw And you don't want to look surprised but you're in constant AHHH! Ain't no fig leaf big enough to hide your dicktion flaws now Teeming pools of alphabetic shame that spit out Infinitely indolent verbs across your page Who dig their cloddish claws instantly into some nouns legs if once your manuscript just limped now it's become quite lame but Off somewhere in New York flat, they don't deal with things like that, just immeasurable frenetic praise that cauterizes as it saves All the truth now in how you're lying there shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet All the truth now in how you're lying there in angelheaded elsewhere so markedly meek All the truth now in how you're lying there shoulder bladed nightmare rug pulled from your feet All the truth now in how you're lying there in angelheaded elsewhere for the past six weeks |
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