club stomp scrub pomp
circumstantial evidence
existential resonance
crescent hooded reverence

polyglot afterthought
spiritual transcendence
or whatever excuse you like
just keep me looking good, right

someone out there might feel about
me better than i do myself

lift me up just this once
forget me later if you want

i've got two heads so far removed from each other
that my body can't contain them
my heart lives in my pocket and my
brain's in another dimension
i don't think i'm a bad person
but you can if you wanna
then we can guarantee that if you hate me
there's one thing we have in common

Swaps his Pynchon for Ayn Rand, that gives that new Hobbes inflection
Swaps his bathwater for applesauce, that gives that young god complexion
Drops that おやすみなさい to that in every direction
Stops that prayer to old gods, now devout to self correction
That's not that road to redemption, that's that linear induction
Except those motors drove so little they too corroded to function
And now he rolls his corolla to the whole neighborhood faction
'Cause the bowls lean and corona weren't the reaction to no action
Air gets thick with static as the deck plays Clouds Taste Metallic
Tell it a third and fourth time to the crowd about how you've had it
How can you call us hacks? Y'all cowards don't even look back!
You can't point that stick at us when you're the one covered in mud
I'm not a perfect being, that's a utopian way of seeing things
That's a dated play on cliche, that doesn't have any meaning
I'm just tryna have a good time, I don't need more reasons to die
I've spent enough of my time looking in my coffee and crying

So come laugh with us
We'll forigve ya
Come laugh with us
All your old friends did



All of my porcelain pores are crying
Every organ in my body is dying
I would tell you if my brain was frying
But it's charcoal by now

I could be making molotov cocktails
But instead I'm just polishing these bottles
Like this will let me rewrite the standard model
As if I knew how

Tear down these lights
Drive slow tonight
I need the time and space to come to terms with my life

Barrel of a gun
Handle of a knife
Without ammunition or a blade to strike

I need to stop romanticizing
And tiptoeing around my past self and problems
Or I won't solve them