For Cabal (ah’s):
These linear systems of thought
When applied for long enough
Return the effects to the parasite
The man talks about Maria Orsic’s panty grool
So the crowd lightens up
To threaten apathy that will never be
Is how the enlightened get shot in the back
With a date set, there’s no way to play it off
When doing some digging through the backyard
Becoming a gossiper again
Talk now
X2
Can’t even look at the light
In this post traumatic timeline
The enthusiasm becomes concentrated
A wash of time melted from the faces of the strangers sitting around in a circle
Temporary comfort in a borax bath
For the confused hemoglobin drifting
The bodies back here can’t muster it anymore
In a closet lined up
With zippers stitched to them
In desperate need for a sponsorship
From some agency
A three letter scar that’s shared
Stick a label on them while they’re warm
Wanderlust is the envy of every curated piece
To pass the time
Staring at burnt out neurotransmitters
Playing in the garbage we made
Who claims top control
Better yet
Smack their noses off
Little brats
Beloved, the gimmicks are all loveless
Took down all their pictures of you
Replaced with some bimbo who called their shot
What was to be expected
After you’ve played with your word
1 Standing 8 count later
We know that it’s not real
Try wrapping it around the throats of those to hate
With this pool of bitterness
The beliefs
And conspiracies
And, yet, nobody wants to connect the photons in the blue light
Place themselves in this chain gang
In this backyard
All down the legs
Disciples of patience and understanding is what you’ve become
Looking around for the next last little bit of it
Sniffing frantically
Here, of all places
Get my piece
With my peace
Ole’ rat
Ole’ rat
X2
Still begging for dominance
With waiting music stuck on replay
Transhumanism was achievable three million years ago
The same people who missed it then, miss it now
Stab them out
Early and often
All there is is time
With, nothing else to buy
So it’s been
Lonely in the saloon past 12
No bad friends to babysit through the teeth of the machine
Keeping the mitochondria misinformed for the examiner’s room
People living in dumpsters losing their limbs from the cold
Children getting bombs dropped on their heads
Turning into inflatable dolls in seconds
An endless beat down will grow in the rhythm
Forty feet is swift enough for the ranger
A mob becomes weak if they’re going heads up
A stove that stays hot going 20 v 1
Oklahoma drill, why not
There’s so much racket from the bags
That it’s a rocket just to shove it
Get your schedulers out for more stupid shit
Bag of air
In this backyard with bodies
Clinking drinks
Getting done over
Can’t steal the melanin’s conversation with DNA and RNA
Woven by intergalactic generations
Stop sleeping for 3 years
See if the wound ever stops bleeding
When the 2nd law of thermodynamics is violated constantly
Vagabonds with beautiful bombs strapped to their arms are wanting to chit chat
Here, of all places
Me, of all people