Of Montreal - Fugitive Air lyrics

I do wrong, strictly speaking, just for myself Because it makes me feel like a real man To hold germane over my business And I refuse to be abused by the mill of blissful decay Besides, I'm used to all of my scruples deserting me Like they're won't to dare The lady from the plaque hunched over on the stool Saying I've been rolled so many times It's just feeding the pigeons Now her grandson swings a little rabbit by the leg While his mother's playing two little wooden flute Playing some fugitive air to escape the streets' waggeries Pathetic! Has anybody here seen my orphan blonde? Has anyone seen where he's gone? What he thinks I owe him is his former life but How can I unmake someone else's mistakes? I guess I was his antihero, the bitter word on his lips I hope I never feel a terror like when you discovered your autonomy had flipped I feel like I possess only the bright aspect of his ability but none of the good ones I'm a walking mausoleum, the scent of rotting flesh Mother always loved you best, liked your teeth upon her breast The smithy remove the oils from the eyes of street cats Through some sh**ty witchcraft, and rubs their brows and genitalia I had no idea how deeply I wounded you But I don't need no forgiveness and no level of contrition will ever do La la la La la la la la la La la la la la la La la la la la la la La la la La la la la la la La la la la la la La la la la la la la Ooh-ah-ah Ooh-ah-ah Ooh-ah-ah Ooh-ah-ah