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I took this photograph soaking wet After an 8-ball's cataract broke a jazz face threat The same touch to the chest of a young musician He wrote his own eulogy with cocaine hands Heroin arms, Novocain undies Long since dropped in the room for dead (animals) Off of the dome, shit I'm off of the phone Off of the couch, off track I've been OTB with a stub and a heart murmur A flask and a fanny pack A bastard on any track (C'mon) Daddy needs a new Megatron Cause the die cast was metal and blasted his left arm You should've viewed how it affected John He's an erected brother, choose to burst loose from the black panther Cannonballing from mattresses into puny little fragments Gleaming white under the black light Well that's a random journal entry from scissor-hand nostalgia Powers down to transfers To somewhat like the methodology of bare-knuckle compassion A train wreck waiting to happen Spelled out in refrigerator magnets G-R-O-W-N-A-S-S-M-A-N, Duckin' his own death threats We stay fresh (What?) You microscopic Sally Struthers with a lobster bib, munchin' on white platelets Epiphanies lead battle soprano SongtexteCome back to dead friends, the hardest way to get sent You motherfuckers don't have grit, you're all teenage poetry, martyrs without causes Move onwards to the pin with this (test) Motherfucker, did I sound abstract? I hope it sounded more confusing than that My priority was found under the arm of an economy-sized mousetrap I dedicate this to Matt Doo (thank you) My name is El-P, I produce and I rap too You're not promised tomorrow You're not promised tomorrow You're not promised tomorrow You're not promised tomorrow You're not promised tomorrow You're not promised tomorrow You're not promised tomorrow You're not promised tomorrow Yo, yo A bottle [rocket], conflicted, I'll throw you a flaming [wingnick] Looking for a hero's stars, Looking for heart in the halls I swear, that lust monkey sweat soaks my balls And this is one step from a junkie living, breakin in doors [My face low], for thermonucleus games Spill rain the open drain, who the fuck is down to steal me some pain I'm feeling ancient with this shit, on some capitalist order scripts I'm lit, trying to draw this figure eight with a twig As if the symmetry alone is the perscription to live The rusty touch throughout the tongs are working, plummeting in This is a far cry from the prevalential focus of things Another rally 'round the family 'til the quota complete My generation is beautiful, [all the rep hold the bliss] Wet ears, and adjust the mood 'til my final exit Plus we torture on the traumas in exact moon script Tuned Mass Damper baby, yeah, that's the shit Aus Songtexte Mania