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    [Aesop Rock]
    Count that for me...thanks

    [Robotic voice] 4x
    One, two, one, two, three, four

    [Aesop Rock]
    Well any asshole with a book of matches can light a fire fresh
    Make that sucker burn for days, I'll be impressed
    Circlin past the culture's bigot, procreation baked in advanceable
    Then ball and scurry up the grass to roll his marbles off the anthill
    I know gerth and nature but recognize absentee ballot
    And sappy ballads couldn't fill the void
    This game's in the giant Tugboat Complex and HE'S ANNOYED!
    (No one's asking you to feel the narc, brother!)
    Hmm, it's fashion
    I'll find my own bullies to shake a finger wrapped in
    Realigned mine knives in divine justice
    Plus this uncontrollable laugh with those ample waves of brain finally crash
    Brimstone clone with legs and dim poems
    Ten little Zen crafts
    Things cooperate like paper dog participants litigans
    Picket well or ride or burner style clinic
    Acid with the basics
    P-H imbalance to burn the malice martyrs spaceless
    Then fabricate daytrips
    I want to be the halo that jumps off the brain
    Of the genius who decided some pictures deserved frames
    (God and I are on a first name basis)
    Yeah I call him God, he calls me Jesus
    When I lost my religion, he fell to pieces
    Blade, dragon, up hell's creek
    Interrupting a devil pagent
    Starfighter settling to madness
    I keep my ghoul spirit concealed
    Until the warriors return to the Coney Isle Wonder Wheel

    [Chorus] 4x
    My momma told me there'd be days like this
    Days like this, days like this, days like this (yes she did)

    [Robotic voice] 4x
    One, two, one, two, three, four

    [Aesop Rock]
    Okay, tell me who you chill with and I'll tell you who you are
    I walk a mile with a leash attached to your freak seminar
    It's a modern sensation on the boulevard of maintenance
    To sweep your broken hopes under the rugs then hug the playpen
    This revolution pushing through the loose pins and a strait jacket
    A maverick classed in a bunk category
    They had him parallel with a tattered glory division
    (I could devil drink dreams out of thermos)
    Yeah, with a whiskey afterburn
    It's like, nine o'clock wake (I'm up) spit obscentities
    My girl ties on my cape, smoke a bone then work my dental tree
    The clear day's laced with a classic mother nature thunderchaser set
    That got my papergrain's wings wet
    Voyeurist amendments lack expansive coverage in the syllabus
    I dance with shuckles while you man the keyhole grilling code
    I've done my chores according to God's schedule
    With coffee holding the wheel and nicotine working the pedals
    Metal edge kings that tends to rapel the pebble
    Kettle screaching out the operetta
    I live to autograph the iron curtain with doveback feather pens
    Spurting magma, cursing television urns to burn until my Cleopatra
    Minor (Major) dispersed slap on the wrist
    For the tennants lacking the arms to harbor the rarity of thick friendship
    Stuck with a "Yes sir"
    Change of fatigue to ankle
    Each beneath the angle
    I'ma call home until the rock meets the angels

    Chorus 4x

    [Robotic voice] *repeat to fade*
    One, two, one, two, three, four

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