Take me to the basement.
|
|
Let me count the holes in your foundation.
|
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Ancient ridicule system alert, kissing my lurk
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The perch of rare grimace on iron mask.
|
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I remember science class,
|
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If chemistry could silence the lions laugh I'd be fine.
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(I fail ta') meddlein' up,
|
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Adrenaline trades the leaves that walk the plank
|
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Before the crimson struck a match this season.
|
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Meridian carpal will jolt your logic
|
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When the burn earned its self normalcy for 20 plus.
|
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Run amok or sink; swims not an option.
|
|
She applied the lipstick slow.
|
|
Slow enough for me to bask in,
|
|
Fast enough for me to wish it lasted
|
|
Past my alarms cackling.
|
|
The front line of its mystique's geek
|
|
Doubled my proposals, bargains
|
|
For the ogres who prefer the roller coasters
|
|
(I prefer the roller coasters)
|
|
Well that'll sip the blood of merry men,
|
|
That'll grace holiday carols when the merry ends.
|
|
Barrel past the auto craft, exhale into vinyl raft
|
|
And pirate your local rain puddle torturous,
|
|
Try to shake pilot fish off your dorsal fin.
|
|
Lets dive through the archives, Xanax on frantic planet,
|
|
Stamp it with a notable brand to reap the profit.
|
|
See I don't know hell but I've read about it often.
|
|
Sounds like a dope concept gone wrong
|
|
(note to caution)
|
|
|
|
Take me to the basement.
|
|
Lets zoom into that war pig sensation.
|
|
Take me to the basement.
|
|
Lets disassemble the cause rotation
|
|
Sayin', if you choose to build it you'll die by the tools you build with
|
|
So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age.
|
|
Take me to the basement.
|
|
Lets deny the nervous rooms of pacin'
|
|
Take me to the basement.
|
|
Lets review the hearts ramification.
|
|
Sayin, if you choose to build or you'll die by the tools you build with,
|
|
So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age.
|
|
|
|
Take me to the basement.
|
|
Lets remove the costume you escaped in.
|
|
Hold up your legacies, I'll tell you which ones my favorite.
|
|
Hold up your alaciritive innocence,
|
|
I'll teach you about the perks of patience in seminar format. (What?)
|
|
I've worn that hat for seven years,
|
|
That's why its discolored, ragged and shitty.
|
|
I ain't about to toss it when its been through all these dream wars with me.
|
|
I'm an undercover prophet, thrift shop garb,
|
|
I'd rather starve then sit inside this gridlock until it parts.
|
|
This tailor made rutiny ain't suitin' me,
|
|
It's tight around my neck like 13 loops, rafter, an apple box.
|
|
Heartless harvest of mine, I'm tired of pissin' benediction.
|
|
Maybe it ain't healthy, but sometimes I rather burn then let you help me.
|
|
It's getting brisk, brisk as fuck.
|
|
My skin ain't thick enough, these icicles ain't civil.
|
|
How many freezer burn victims can one society on tilt manufacture
|
|
Prior to hire, being intervening just to release last laughter.
|
|
And every tree trunks made of third rails with tourniquet branches.
|
|
And I learned to walk with an anchor in my back pocket.
|
|
And man I read palms during even the most brief handshakes.
|
|
And man I ain't alive to pull the weeds around the spotlit.
|
|
Well I'm wallowin, followin my little lost princess to the promise land,
|
|
Hollerin' my potent slogan, hell, if Nostradamus can.
|
|
Conquering these open roads with throttle pin to floor,
|
|
'Cause I'ma win right after I finish these chores.
|
|
|
|
Take me to the basement.
|
|
Lets zoom into that war pig sensation.
|
|
Take me to the basement.
|
|
Lets disassemble the cause rotation
|
|
Sayin', if you choose to build it you'll die by the tools you build with
|
|
So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age.
|
|
Take me to the basement.
|
|
Lets deny the nervous rooms of pacin'
|
|
Take me to the basement.
|
|
Lets review the hearts ramifications.
|
|
I'm sayin, if you choose to build or you'll die by the tools you build with,
|
|
So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age.
|
|
|
|
Take me to the basement...
|
|
|
|
"I think the greatest harm done the human race has been done by the poets."
|
|
"Well, poets are dull boys, most of them, but not a lot are especially fiendish."
|
|
"They keep filling people's heads with delusions about...love."
|
|
-----------------
|
Take Me To The Basement
|
| Aesop Rock |
