1. |
The Head
00:48
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I. THE HEAD
Here we’re left with a crooked house
For we took advice from every gaping mouth,
Never did learn to watch our step
We deserve the bloody stumps that are left.
Wading into your dead field
Where traps you laid slept concealed
And tongues rained down on hollowed grounds
“Rather earn this name than deliver it found.”
Beware the fury of a patient man,
He’s got grudges neck in his hand.
And the first stone in the other,
Cain waiting calmly for his brother.
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2. |
The Lore
01:54
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II. THE LORE
It’s a cock and bull story, true Americana lore
That our feet will stay planted once this cotton hits the floor
It appears were still wet behind our ears,
Though our high horses came in our early years.
“Son your first steps better come soon, you’re on company time once exhumed from that womb”
passed from room to room as they see you groomed
Pick another strand from the laymen’s life loom.
“Son your first steps better come soon, you’re on company time once exhumed”
To all those still living in a one horse town, it’s raining white feathers as were spiraling down.
Thanks to all the cowards, for leaving suits so vacant
For we are now wise to all your blanket statements.
But why should they fear for they’ve feathered their nests?
They’ve choked the early bird til its last breath
Thanks to all the cowards, for leaving suits so vacant,
For we are now wise to all your blanket statements.
To all those still living in the one horse town
It’s raining white feathers as were spiraling down.
Thanks to all the cowards, for leaving suits so vacant
For we are now wise to all your bullshit statements
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3. |
The Kids from the Curb
01:18
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III. The Kids From The Curb
Spare that old St. Francis pull, a savior for these animals.
Inspired desires will always expire,
For the higher require the old ways to retire.
This is not a ghost nor a pale standard,
It’s a route around a ridge that we’ve been handed.
Now another vein has been found,
Now lays another’s bother in the ground.
The list of the kids form the curb grows thin,
I’ve scribed those words with my best intentions.
Spare that old St. Francis pull, a savior for these animals.
Complicated errors to discuss with yourself,
Are just easy problems that were built for someone else.
And this is how a tall-tailed imagination comes to grips,
With a stone sound sense of sensibility within its lips.
For the new traditions of the true rumors
are the homeless shelters for these honest crooks.
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4. |
The Enlightened Crows
00:44
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IV. The Enlightened Crows
Greasing palms is the only psalm
That the penny pinchers revel in
Giving rise to the prize in the plight of the present tense.
We’ve poured oil over the troubled waters
yet the waves haven’t ceased, for why would they bother?
Why would they bother when silence is still water?
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5. |
The Dirty Shuffle
01:34
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V. The Dirty Shuffle
Here it comes again like the glorious moments in the final strokes of the game.
Enamored by the fact someone passed over, along thy name.
Underlined in the material world; the high price of glam and the shame of the strange
I would rather be the water than the rock in this run of the chain.
We have something else to confess,
these rose Kennedy’s don’t own a single black dress
and close only counts when we’re struggling blind.
Saving wits for a healthy harvest
Seeing you stepped out lacking a harness.
“Where’s my redemption from the only apparent desired convention?”
At this point you’re still finger fucking the brim of your peer’s general aesthetics,
Never to grow longer in mind, emulating an image, another mirrored mime.
Here it comes again like the glorious moments in the final strokes of the game.
Enamored by the fact someone has passed over and along thy name.
Underlined in the material world; the high price of glam and the shame of the strange
I would rather be the water than the rock in this run of the chain
Water than the rock
Water than the rock
Rather be the water than that rock.
We have something to confess
These rose Kennedy’s don’t own a single black dress
and close only counts when we’re struggling blind.
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6. |
The Tail
00:53
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VI. THE TAIL
Tucked into this bedlam,
Where beauty and honesty barely agree.
It’s is oh so clear necessity,
Was not a bargain that was guaranteed.
Where’s the point where you degrade our place?
We’ve worked so hard and bannered in our human race.
Rattled reality by its very gates,
Nearly ripped the fucking hinges off that old grace.
Approval is no longer an albatross,
We’ve casted it without a kiss in a blind toss
How about a toast to these last words?
Try my best not to stumble over my curbed verbs.
To keep this short, to keep this concise,
“The best part of me is still begging for a fight.”
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SPIT SPEWING SNAKES Detroit, Michigan
Spry- Bass
Aaron- Guitar
Juice- Drums
Nate- Vocals
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