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Jazz Hands
(专辑: Garbology - 2021)
Love note to the
whole fuck show Postmarked from a
lighthouse in the
blunt smoke Dear motherfuckers, I'm teetering if you must know Wolf at the
door like a
bug to the
fructose Niece on the
phone saying, "Ian you should visit more" We could build forts while the
pigs court civil war Miss you, miss you more, see you on the
far side Scuffed shoes, couple new scars in the
archive I'm not here to pull scarves out Here to pick tumblers underwater with his arms bound From in chains to the
heart of "where art thou" I'm out there down to throw a
grapnel at a
guard tower Down to spray piss on a
cop car It's rage in the
form of Renaissance art Can't treat it like a
job at the
stockyard And feign shock when they turn the
block to a
pockmark Stock parts knocking on Mach 1
to Camp Lo Amped up, eyes glowing unknown pantones Drive 'til it feels like a
Van Gogh Lest I
cheetah me some antelope Partly cloudy, palpable panic in the
troposphere Wake a
giant, poke a
bear, we don't do smoke and mirrors We do, do a
med-kit and spare clothes Leave a
motherfucker nowhere close New superpower that I
picked up in a
frenzy I
could draw a
roof on fire from memory Each and every sketch another bloodletting In a
wake of escalation, and excessive rubbernecking The
champ can't look away, drink it in Strobe lights, smoke, no life, no lifeguard, sink or swim Ring around the
king of pain, bring acetaminophen You either see the
vision or dinner with demolition men Boom Flame to the
fuse to the
barrel I
step into the
room, split an arrow with an arrow The
first trick shot is just to show them that I
dabble I
will not be aiming for the
apple Lately, I
treat every interaction as a
living wake Thanking people close to me before the
photo pixelate New day, folk downplay the
game different Changed, and going from being chased to playing chicken Get your whole roadmap Pac Man'd Black mask, snack on whatever's in the
dashcam It's not an ad, hashtag, or a
tap dance Patsy, the
revolution will not have jazz hands I
know you're alien to matters of the
heart and mind That shit that make you park the
car and scream into the
dark of night Some days I
wanna build a
rocket to the
Kármán line 10, 9, 8, keep your head and arms inside, yeah
完毕