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    [Aesop Rock]

    Shit... Vanessa, what time is it? aw, fuck ... Labor.

    Zoom in to the fuming of an aggravated breed
    Via the study of post-adolesent agitated seeds
    Half the patients wasted self pride at Commencement
    So I focus on the urban Oxygen samples, the hot that made it breathe
    They sold Pompeii impression, waste infections
    And twelve steps to lesson
    Cretins swiftly tippy toe on hard to swallow, barter concepts
    The give-it get-it, never let it self pass the word, eyeing stubborness
    Martyrs talks money causes in a harvesting Spartacus
    And someone, I've thrown long Hail Mary bombs
    Toward cookie-cutter Mother Natures bedazzled synthetic fabrics
    Life treats the peasants like
    They tried to fuck his woman while he slept inside
    Well they're merely chasing perfectionist emblems
    When the clock strikes nine
    I'll be waking with the best of routine caffiene team players
    For the cycle of it
    Under a dusted angel heartstring Big Brother is watching
    My odometer like buzzard to fallen elk, talking stealth
    We got babies, rubber stamps, and briefcase parts
    We on some door-to-door now
    Order ten dollars or more, we'll shove it down your throat for free
    I'll sacrifice my inborn tendencies
    For copper pennies for one commanding "Gimme that"
    So we can retain baby fat
    Make the biter snake bedlam
    Holocaust freak, heckle shiesty brain headroom shaped planet
    Make a move, pause, make a move break cannon
    Bent barrel one eight zero, you'll turn, squeeze, ending
    It's on like it's never been
    It's bleeding well
    It's bigger than a breadbox
    It can roast my leaky finance
    I'll take my seat atop the Brooklyn Bridge
    With a Coke and a bag of chips
    To watch a thousand lemmings plummet just because
    The first one slipped
    Sometimes I laugh at victory, kissing these little question marks
    I tend to underestimate my average
    Just another bastard savage
    Someday you'll all eat out of my cold hand
    'cause every dog has it's day
    At which point, I'll pull it away

    Now we the American working population
    Hate the fact that eight hours a day
    Is wasted on chasing the dream of someone that isn't us
    And we may not hate our jobs
    But we hate jobs in general
    That don't have to do with fighting our own causes
    We the American working population
    Hate the nine-to-five day-in day-out
    When we'd rather be supporting ourselves
    By being paid to perfect the pasttimes
    That we have harbored based solely on the fact
    That it makes us smile if it sounds dope

    [Aesop Rock]
    It's the year of the silkworm
    Everything I built burned yesterday
    Let's display the purpose that these stilts serve
    Elevate the spreading of the silk germ
    Trying to weave a web but all that I believe in is dead
    Nah brother, it's the year of the jackal
    Saddle up on high horse
    My torch forced Polaris embarrassed
    Shackle up the hassle by the dooming legend marriage
    I bought some new sneakers
    I just hope my legacy matches
    It's the year of the landshark
    Dry as sand, parched, damn get these men some water
    They're out there being slaughtered
    In meaningless wars so you don't have to bother
    And can sit and soak the idiotbox trying to fuck their daughters
    Man it's the year of the Orphan
    Seated adjacent to the firefly circling the torches on your porches
    Trying to guard the fortress of a king they've never seen or met
    But all are trained to murder at the first sign of a threat
    Maybe it's the year of the waterbug
    Cockroach utter thug specimen
    Your response, dreaming of your next of kin
    I'm still dealing with this mess I'm in
    I've been the object of your ridicule
    You've been a bitch lieutenant
    God it's the year of the underpaid employee
    Spitting forty plus a week
    And trying to rape earth on my off time
    You bought dizzy, I can't keep myself busy enough
    So you can run run run
    And I'ma let you think you won
    EVERYBODY!

    We the American working population
    Hate the fact that eight hours a day
    Is wasted on chasing the dream of someone that isn't us
    And we may not hate our jobs
    But we hate jobs in general
    That don't have to do with fighting our own causes
    We the American working population
    Hate the nine to five day-in day-out
    But we'd rather be supporting ourselves
    By being paid to perfect the pasttimes
    That we have harbored based solely on the fact
    That it makes us smile if it sounds dope

    [Aesop Rock]
    Fumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen
    Pour myself a cup of ambition and
    Yawn and stretch and my life is a mess and
    If I never make it home today, God bless
    Fumble outta bed and stumble to the kitchen
    Pour myself a cup of ambition and
    Yawn and stretch and my life is a mess and
    If I never make it home today, God bless

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