歌词：Subtle. Earthsick.
A flash flood in a plastic egg,
this is the obvious boy hitting.
I saw a man hop a barb-wire fence,
with a baby under his arm
a matress on the sidewalk- next to a bike
chained to a tree.
Earthsick
One out of three says I'm a lie.
One out of three says I'm alive.
and the other third can't even say hi.
And that's just a third of the time-
"I haven't yet written the scene's that make up my movie."
I'm american brood, 21st century fair
Mad rat, the latch, and fame of he in that flown maze.
He shakes still coffee at the probable cigarette
this here is a banger for the lonely, my age, and in therapy.
Bang:
life grows in a cut.
And bang:
It's a sunny rut.
I don't care who thinks that it was them
t'was money made the light bulb stem
the final marble of math
does not go further than the loaf of bread.
Wage.
That's why I write lines for space
in zero denial.
Come on tax-man repo this!
A twenty odd year young man washes his hands.
He drew a line in the sand a foot from the water and said
"Free trips from here to the ocean- 5 cents,"
then he threw up a stand, and made a few million clams
until a whale beeched at his feet .
Then he judged and he quit and he walked,
buck-naked, back to the pert city
where he then bent a railing around his throat for protection.
See what I was trying to explain was
the way a boy on a bike floats across a busy intersection.
All the world knowing that he's only late for dinner,
and all that balance unfurling across the sockets in his skeleton.
He's not the million parts soapy water of a bubble
not the nine-hundreth percentile.
I saw a woman still reading hamlet to her murmering baby
although I wouldn't know?
We were all watching a 64-inch screen play black.
No one's plane had arrived yet.
I overhear two dying men with a lead whisper say
"That there on the t.v. there? That's footage from the afterlife
live streamed straight over the child pipe."
Wrists reeking of cut glass.
Cut-"
It's the well water black of a digital clock.
It's what happens.
The first lie
is that you are unique in a remote way,
natural peace child.
Squeezing the earth around it's skin shedding fist,
as soon as the stick came off the sand.
They knew,
that there was that magnetic something to the number seven.
this is the obvious boy hitting.
I saw a man hop a barb-wire fence,
with a baby under his arm
a matress on the sidewalk- next to a bike
chained to a tree.
Earthsick
One out of three says I'm a lie.
One out of three says I'm alive.
and the other third can't even say hi.
And that's just a third of the time-
"I haven't yet written the scene's that make up my movie."
I'm american brood, 21st century fair
Mad rat, the latch, and fame of he in that flown maze.
He shakes still coffee at the probable cigarette
this here is a banger for the lonely, my age, and in therapy.
Bang:
life grows in a cut.
And bang:
It's a sunny rut.
I don't care who thinks that it was them
t'was money made the light bulb stem
the final marble of math
does not go further than the loaf of bread.
Wage.
That's why I write lines for space
in zero denial.
Come on tax-man repo this!
A twenty odd year young man washes his hands.
He drew a line in the sand a foot from the water and said
"Free trips from here to the ocean- 5 cents,"
then he threw up a stand, and made a few million clams
until a whale beeched at his feet .
Then he judged and he quit and he walked,
buck-naked, back to the pert city
where he then bent a railing around his throat for protection.
See what I was trying to explain was
the way a boy on a bike floats across a busy intersection.
All the world knowing that he's only late for dinner,
and all that balance unfurling across the sockets in his skeleton.
He's not the million parts soapy water of a bubble
not the nine-hundreth percentile.
I saw a woman still reading hamlet to her murmering baby
although I wouldn't know?
We were all watching a 64-inch screen play black.
No one's plane had arrived yet.
I overhear two dying men with a lead whisper say
"That there on the t.v. there? That's footage from the afterlife
live streamed straight over the child pipe."
Wrists reeking of cut glass.
Cut-"
It's the well water black of a digital clock.
It's what happens.
The first lie
is that you are unique in a remote way,
natural peace child.
Squeezing the earth around it's skin shedding fist,
as soon as the stick came off the sand.
They knew,
that there was that magnetic something to the number seven.
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