1. |
Classy Weekend Birth
02:24
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I come strolling like a sinner,
I leave strutting like a saint-
With that obnoxious sense of freedom,
Like a bird without a cage-
And I was howling at the moon-
In a pearl snap masterpiece of a croon,
"Oh how sweet! The sound!"
Cut off the wings of a Monday,
'Cause I was born out of Saturday's womb-
Puking up the weekday's surrogate mother from all the weekend's I've consumed-
Confined to our cells, we're a hoax-
Pawns on a board- Sticks in the spokes-
If they refuse to move, cut the cord, cut the cord-
We refuse to move, cut the cord, cut the cord-
Forgive, forget,
Relive, regret-
(repeat)
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2. |
Rope
02:31
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Oh if I ever catch a break-
I'm putting you and me-
In the offering plate-
Side by side, lie for lie-
About as fake as a married moan,
Liberator of the hearts in tow-
I was a willing hand until I learn to use a phone-
Part ways everywhere I go-
Stray dog freedom right at home-
Waltzing back and forth on the town's tight,
Rope, Rope, Rope, Rope, Rope, Rope-
And over this we rejoice as we embark-
On another stumbling mission, to a neighboring bar-
And over this we rejoice and embark-
On another stumbling mission, to a neighboring bar-
We're all billboards-
Casting call, for those hollow ribs-
I picked them out, and got sick again-
When all that back found you was a couch,
And your tongue crept round your feet, threw yourself out-
'Cause from the sound of the tone-
You're going home alone-
You're going home alone-
Concentration camp of a smile-
I've been here for awhile-
Crooked as they come, I'm crooked as they come-
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3. |
Zero Hors d'oeuvres
02:53
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Pulpits and poems-
Cage holy ghosts-
Forfeit the fire-
Coax in the tyrant-
I am your witness, bathe within me-
I am your illness, now lay down beside me-
For fuck sake believe me-
We all will burn slowly-
For fuck sake-
Have you no grief?
Am I not yours?
Are we disguised in the flesh of free whores?-
I'll be the kid in the corner questioning our relevance-
Nudge me when you find someone, who can answer it-
Answer me!-
I can't be the only, one that sees-
Red eyed in the morning from the sins the night before,
That twin bed might be single if these habits don't divorce-
Oh dear God, what have I done?-
Where's my head gone?-
Bent towards the sky-
Where is your host?-
Who's doing the toast?-
(And when the Lord came down he looked that boy in the eye....said son)
Action isn't passion,
There's a reason patience is a practice,
You ain't got it-
No mercy shall be shown-
For those holy rolling slaves-
There will be no pride to measure-
There will be no accolades-
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4. |
Rug Cutter
04:24
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Lace up yourself some brand new shoes-
A dance floor empty serves no use-
Cross out some eyes-
Shoot out the lights-
Resurrect, those A.M. blues-
Two-step or sing-
Polish your eyes-
Polish your eyes-
Don't impress, a hopeless night-
Polish your eyes-
Polish your eyes-
Run to God, save yourself-
A couple miles away from hell-
Run to God, save yourself-
Dull as the chest to come,
I demand your hearts to beat as one-
As we loudly interrupt, hasty decisions we often conduct-
I lay as the lamb,
I die as the sheep-
If they are lions in the cradle, we were fucked before we fell asleep-
We were goners, before it was fashionable-
We were goners, before it was fashionable-
Paint on that smile-
Jazz up that rouge-
While you were in a panic-
I was lounging in his suit-
Just a singing for a cause-
I was wandering through graveyard,
Humming myself the same ol' tune-
Just a fly in the graveyard,
Buzzin' with the devil in the pale moon-
I was wandering through the graveyard,
Humming myself the same ol' tune-
Just arrived in the graveyard,
Fancy finding myself by you-
I was wandering through the graveyard,
Whistling like I had no clue-
Happenstances make men faulty-
Waking up right next to you-
Bury your birth-
For what it's worth-
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Starving the South Branson, Missouri
Starving the South is a Southern Rock/Hardcore band out of Branson, MO.
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