Christians And Lions - Gimme Diction lyrics

It's like some overbearing tax on praxis; how I'm supposed to feel bad for this when all I've sworn to do is hold soul like a cold in haunted bronchial tubes. And my love for you is harmless as fallen fruit. 'Picked up quick how nice a jaw cradles a fist - you made it look like an accident and no (no) one finds truth among tooth that march 'round my parched mouth slinging science to the beat of their own gums. Ooh (ooh)-ahh-la-lies we advertise. ba*tardized pidgin insult, a lingua franca of heroes and villains: Failure. I don't know it any more than I know success - it ain't my mess. I won't baby you, won't wipe your mouth when the sh**-talk stops. Oh, stop.