King of Tyrus - American Dream Catcher lyrics

Say hello, living Van Gogh in the projects pushing too hard on the brush to live painless. Be like Alice, always chasing white rabbits to their homes for the secrets they know. Academic in the sense that you “get it”: Turgenev’s Phantom is the tollbooth ticket to the void – the null side – the nothingness – ______ … Lullaby whispered in my ear: “It’s time to sleep. Dream of void, dream of peace.” Wake to form and out here there is no peace, only violence The dream’s a sugar whiteout/ whole city blocks are covered/ we’ll toast and jump off/ foil hats off/ ‘cause the voices said the ground’s soft Stop Do you hear that? The Devil’s on his way, I can feel it. The wind is milk against the skin, dripping off as the leaves they turn from green You’ll run and you’ll run with your head tilted towards the sun like the children running free in this American suburban dream. Thumbs down. I wanna see the bloodshed now! You painted the door red with the Blood of the Lamb, but the plague just pa**ed on through. Welcome to the void. Harvest time is here! The bells ring and the children play fishermen in the sand. They congregate to the speech with their toy guns in hand. All of God’s children said, “Amen.” So let’s play cups… Keep your eye on the sign as the signifier changes: I’m pop-psych-sick of sightseeing-light-lit Gone girl? Gone world! Gone roll around off the beaten road You’ll run and you’ll run, but you’ll never catch up to God. It’s a lost cause. Thumbs down. I wanna see the bloodshed now! You painted the door red with the Blood of the Lamb, but the plague just pa**ed on through. Welcome to the void. Harvest time is here! The bells ring and the children play fishermen in the sand. They congregate to the speech with their toy guns in hand. All of God’s children said, “Amen.” You will never find the lake, Thoreau. Tell your students there is nothing to know: nothing gained, nothing learned, nothing grown. Sit here, right beside me. Find quiet in the rhythm of my breathing. On the hillside, lakeside, watching lanterns rise/ So fly south, sweet flock of angels Take away my hope for me It’ll do you more good than me Fly south, sweet flock of angels Take away my hope for me It’ll do you more good than me Good bye. We all die young.