[Verse 1]
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Look
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Unsigned hype
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Front line aeronauts flurry
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Zero dark thirty
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Zero friends minotaur-fugly stepchild
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Evoke lunch jumped over plunging necklines
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Up, beside tongue-tied hungry enzymes
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Devolved into mothmen munching textiles
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Punisher
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Out past go-time
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Back 10 fried worms chubbier
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Brown grass both sides
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Canned food
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Manmade tools
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Lanacane, band aids, mandrake root
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Bindle on a broomstick, pancaked shoes
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And a handshake-proof campaign, can't lose
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Can't gain
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Smoke out moles like a force of nature
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Pray fortune return to his favor
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Swiftly
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Maybe in the form of a nest egg
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Maybe in the form of a tesla death ray
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Or a solid gold scene with something better to celebrate
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Than powder on a face like a flatfoot on jelly day
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M-m-moral compass all batshit
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Spinning in the shadows of immoral magnets
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Are we supporting the artist or enabling the addict
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I mean, I guess it matters to me
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I wish it mattered to you
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How a thousand virtues
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Kick the same bucket like chinatown turtles
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[Hook]
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Roving packs of elusive young become
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Choke-lore writers over boosted drums
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In the terrifying face of a future tongue
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Down down from a huntable surplus to one
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[Verse 2]
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(Check his own) Breakneck pulse
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Over colors in a drain
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That emote sugar skulls in the rain
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Flower-eyes melting
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Guided by a levy made of that tile, tilting
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Quarter up and headed for the kill screen
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No corner cut, no build team
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Only a particularly menacing
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Angle perpendicular to everything
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Boys room cherry bomb
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Boy/goon very much runnin' with the devil in the mellotron
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Hello
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Here's where a tale of caution
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Pounds coffin nails
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To bootlegs of Hawkwind, saw tooth
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Nevermind straw to gold
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Spin hearts on sleeves into heads on poles
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Arm in the maw
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Fish out pith like a business card in a jar at the mall
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A-alike androids dreaming of carbon applause
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Get stuffed with cartoon cigars
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Cold pack, neti-pot, home to roost
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Around folk backed into what they most lampoon
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Shook to the fevered brow and broke ankles
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Daisy, declawed pound, no thank you
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Fade me
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Failed all basic training
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But I spent a couple groundhog days with a changeling
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Silhouette the god's last cigarette
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Anything less would be ri-god-damn-diculous
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[Hook]
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Roving packs of elusive young become
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Choke lore writers over boosted drums
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In the terrifying face of a future tongue
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Down down from a huntable surplus to one
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-----------------
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Zero Dark Thirty
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| Aesop Rock |
