Slug - June 26th, 1999- A. Slight lyrics

[Doseone] If I'm out sometimes Out there sometimes I make a miserable human Emptied out and feeling stupid, sterile For breathing my choice is stale And my arms and legs are falling asleep My hosted figure it out is falling asleep Everybody wants to wake up [penis] and Get them snacked on the cop at staples rip Every line's not perfect punk Loaded the gram wrong Don't make a difference still hurts Being out of minds to stand up and Run sour, be small today Screams a scarecrow with self-righteous Taking so seriously Even the big stick it rusts shut Water burns off the good catcher as it burns [Sole] We're goin' back to the popcorn A la DJ Mayonnaise Who's their mesmeriser? Forgot how to win [at chess and] Prepare dinner table for guests I hide the [simple ware and eat tourists] It's not nice to point You can hit with the wrong reasons But I hope you leave convinced And no fingerprints or imprints I've been here since I sat down Disown a talent, and all the people that make a living within its padded walls I hate you all For not that your like me Maybe I'm wrong, but I make the rules And break the hearts If you [want it here], I'm down to take But I can carry it in my cage Show me the paintings These are [cursive spells] of recipes d**h to the world Live forever critically acclaimed Forget my name But please know the [words] that follow the songs For the next years to come [Alias] I cry inside only ‘cause I have no energy to do it on the outside I'm tired and grown quite weary, saying What the hell's the matter with future not reflecting Looking at it in disgust, can you come up with something, anything? [Hook by Sole/Alias]x4 It's like, all alive, we're all gonna die Prepare my cocoon when I'm gonna Write a Bible [Doseone] The feeling c*nt Watch 'em get her clothes up And walks out Disregard their air in me Happiness is dying Wishing we downed the entire set Walking on my hands and feet Jesus say “You like me psalm” Whatever happened next and I'm not an alien and everything Will not be alright There is a wrong in every speck Longitudinal slum to lay around the world Forces your belly bet biting my tongue (Biding the time) [Alias] Repeated short buzzes bring me to my disconnected Feeling in a 14:40 minute Cycle of this Perhaps it is this That makes my music so depressing Or maybe it's the fact I have to travel extensively To work with others in my circle And as a controlled rain falls into my body I ponder the thought that it might be the fact That I'm the minority in my city Because I don't do Pearl Jam covers And as I begin that twenty minute journey I think perhaps it's because I must sit in this Eight hour constrainer of creativity Punching numbers when I should be Pushing bu*tons in two thousand ways How is it I'm motivated to endure Eight hours of pure unadulterated boredom? Then sit in front of another computer for Four more hours using the same old drum set Trying different loops, can't find one to fit Maybe this is why I sit in front of a pad of paper, pen in hand with a blank mind And I ask myself Is the writer's slump the best form of meditation? Rhetorical, don't have an answer And I also don't expect one [Doseone] One big clock behind the forehead Wires hanging out of the keyholes Of the back of my spine terminated And completely not the same fabric As the street should make me humble Force in by humidity and all the sponge shop habits (quiet) [Hook] x4 [Alias] I could easily write those platinum puppets But I couldn't fight the gag reflex Even if that weren't the case I'd look myself in the face of my reflection would probably backhand me Placin' my blame on myself [Sole] [Liver was an island] Pasted over receptacles, my phlegm My pen, this [wharf] brings me back This pungent tundra metaphorical Punching bag, bring around the human autopsy Skin all torn, dripping on my [citizens of these bells] Bringing thorn, singing songs all alone [I could] whispering, all I do is weep Pity, isn't it? If being here is touching myself This is literary masturbation to say the least Slay the beast, [depth in] Swallowing my pride We are modern humans Fashioned in, [harboured] outside The cannon blew out All the people left the villages Children run the streets and they Find new gods to pray to New ways to prepare for the coming of something new New ways to prepare for the coming of something wonderful New ways to prepare for the coming of something new New ways to prepare for the coming of something beautiful [Doseone] No little boy, from the makeup Is, come on, embarra**ed from the makeup Man's uncanny successful by mostly in his Capitalist measuring stick, prolific bare a** Mushing the clover and [then] the lion's share My [lunch please], got money tree Or sanction the openings at [plainly] Or doing fine, knockin' me [o' and] [Do it] my own, Avalon Bought sickle stick and golden tinsel Valhalla, toasted the Pape And there is a circle behind every point And I'm a-scared to spread out Give back to the rain clouds It's me against my tape worms It row cross (peace!) still standing Die off on doing the hump It hurts too real (real, real) [Sole/Slug] x7 Let's get incredible Break your face values