Privacy has got me by the throat
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It's cut me down to size in quarter notes
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I'm have the man I was when this was written
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but twice as shy now that I've been knocked around
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Specifically? I'm talking about my home
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Providence plays no role, I make my own
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I'm doing a residency in music in a strictly commercial zone
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and I can't even believe that I'm at odds with the city
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Do I have to get indicted to get support around here?
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I mean I'm not Dunkin Donuts but I'm giving back to society
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And you don't recognize without the label validation spectacles,
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the one who stands for something is just the one born with no knees
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And don't expect me to rock it in your name, sitting sidelines in the radio game
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So replace me with a supermarket, over there we'll build a mall
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Soon comparison rockers shop at the Century Lounge or the Call
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We hit a wall a while ago built on premature reputations
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but now we fall between the lines the city fails to read,
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confused by lyrical subject matter (other than that promoting weed)
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and time signatures designed for something more than moving feet
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But I've been drinking water working harder than anyone else who's unemployed
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six years of shows and all excuses are null and void
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We've fallen into: "Hey, it's Gruvin Bigpants Kids. I seen yous play at uh, at da Lupo's. Are ya still doin da music thing?"
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In this "biz" we're not "kids" we're "casualties"
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Caught in the crossfire of trying to out-grunt colleagues
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Swallowing bands with hollow throats
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I'd say we could coexist but being a good sport doesn't put Ramen on the table
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And this musical cannibalism is just a side effect
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Whether or not you see the invisible teeth that the media nips at your feet with
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believe that neither rain nor sleet nor minimum wage
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will keep me from stopping the Poo Lyrical Tyranny
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In the spirit of capitalism with the spirit of an audio collision
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I sing to you, Phantoms of a Million Bad Decisions, "Have lunch on my GRAVE!"
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I hope you choke on my divisions!
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Your appetite's the bridge between soup and superstition,
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now six feet of silence asleep under the piano
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Finally pacified by the dirt dismal quiet of a second story nation
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It's piling up like crazy and my stage name sits on top of me
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Forget the top hat, I went back to Babyhead like John Monopoly!
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Always the student with no class, I traded in my lab pass to go to the recession
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And now I read social encounters as mathematical expressions:
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loneliness divided by huddled mass plus density
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equals me switching seats and getting off a block early,
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coughing home to 60 degrees and grilled cheese
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Complaints carpet my apartment on the 3rd floor,
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overlooking slums like a lottery billboard
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Stressed out about being stressed out
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Dressed up to cash out and get a stomach knot when I can't cash doubt
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I need a moment of solitude
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To lose my poor attitude
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But I'm only invisible when I feel credible
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It's a silent world that won't stop speaking to me,
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strangers' stories that freeze my journal entries
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60 degrees and a nicotine breeze
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bring me home finally to my 2nd floor destiny
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And it's odd to think that work is rest to me and rest is work,
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I paid out my investments in sleep deprivation currency
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Matching breathing rhythms to those of the broken fridge
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I file today under "useless" so it's water under the bridges
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The download slows to null, other's troubles are flushed when my lids locked at sunrise
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My alarm made me realize $1.25 isn't even half the cost of riding the RIPTA bus
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With no fuss the pen drops
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(or is it the hand that stops writing bedtime stories?)
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days to allegory
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In six hours filmed over suns invade our territories to START PUSHING!
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SILENCE THEN AGGRESSION
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EXHAUSTION TO EXHAUST
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ESCAPE IS TEMPORARY
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RUNNING CIRCLES IN A TRAFFIC JAM
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TO SHUT DOWN.
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-----------------
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Then Silence
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Gruvis Malt |