Drips to the brain and a shock on your lips/
With a paper-thin smile as she slowly moves her hips/
Eyes glazed over she just wants to find a way out/
But she hits and then she trips until she's on the ground passed out.
You mean to tell me you're an angel?
**** lies.
Because you're stuck inside your own mind lookin' for a compromise.
Earthquake, shook up, waitin' for the sun to rise/
Aftershock, thrown up, do it all again tonight.
She's a little diva, with a tattoo when her sleave's up/
Keep it from the parents they don't know just what the street's done.
Darling likes 'em daring better hope she doesn't catch one/
Paralyzing stare and she'll forget you after all the fun.
But it's a sickness, her fever seems so cyclic.
She hustles-loves-and moves-on shouting independence.
'She's not the one to blame' they say, 'she's a product of her environment'
no way.
She's a self-sustained dope-headed crack-craving ****-train.
Begging for her high she can lie to fill the pocket,
A siren slowly swinging with her skin a little off-tint.
But what if lies were only lies because of what ourselves define,
and maybe lines scribbled over lines are just the best way I can hide.

Viking's got it virtual, spinning and he's cynical
masking masquerade of every beaten broken lateral.
open-bottled bears look like little tiny hairs due to massive
sorts of stacking and a corp worth dollar shares.
Now i'm sitting in a skull or two, a brain that can't pick what to do
An empty, and gated, abandoned hop skotch for dancin' or truth.
signs of life negative, I don't think we can hold the shiv
but i will pay a nickel if you ask me where the mattress is.

Stop
And don't think you left 4 eyes blocked fully.
i'm lookin for the glasses that won't make me look silly.
got a hidden sort of stash, the kind of cash is always relevant.
got industries in disaster with a passion for the magnificent.
now every ****** actor has some kind of immune innocense.
now what the **** has happened to utilizing more than common sense?
I guess we just forgot what time armageddon really is
so allow me to introduce the second hand to you ******* kids.

Please return your seats to an upright release.
(Down-trodden echoes from moon-base police.)
Don't take a number unless you can be seen.
(mathematic addict he took a train for free.)


Ohhh--- my-good-god-*******,
**** it's a nice way to live outside.
free patties made fresh from the earth, 8 to 5.
but he's too **** busy not thinkin' survive.
we can rebuild him.
Undercut the normal cost of generations you are stuck with,
throw it all in paper bags and call it a sickness.
teacher made me sit outside away from all the other kids,
attentiveness is measured by an inconsistent dosage list.
Awareness is a trait
and being blind is a disorder
sight beyond sight is something to be ignored or,
better yet we need a ******* sight beyond the seen sight,
or maybe just a cigarette to keep my mattress fire bright.

Go
Green lights spit on the pavement- pea soup food fight kids entertainment.
rock show, dog fight, all just the same ****.
money riding visual stimulation and a shaking rib.
ha- ha- ha
hear me chuckle like a charlie got his X-ray goggles put on little bit sideways.
crack the better pavement so no one has good roadways.
now our infastructure needs improvements going both ways.


Please return your seats to an upright release.
(Down-trodden echoes from moon-base police.)
Don't take a number unless you can be seen.
(mathematic addict he took a train for free.)

There used to be this one place I would go all the time flies.
I'd run away trees growing up to see the sun rise.
I'd crash cars driving miss the pointed fingers compromise and burn into the morning like it used to be my job at night.

I gave away to three for a high five and some change.
I shouted out with my voice claiming nothing was strange.
I had hollow thoughts pass out in passing with a page and realized that my place wasn't so far away.

I tried a brand new kind of sin.
Cut, cast and over dressed
I've settled down and taken in.

Burn books to keep the fire on.
Tongue-tied and underwhelmed
I stay warm 'til the dark is gone.

So bring a drug dosed for a doze.
Dream dried up and i'm out
with another trip shot up my nose.

But I guess you live and learn to die.
Steps stopped so you can see
it's the closest we'll ever get to high.

When everything is new, it just feels
so
****
good.

You find yourself lost, maybe in an iris,
completely vulnerable but blissfully apathetic to the fact.
You wake up to a warmer light, possibly from the inside,
and you have no idea where you are, but that doesn't matter.
You discover, uncover, and redefine each other.
Tangled legs and whispered words,
bring you closer to one another.
But everything is new, everything is a wonder.
You enjoy finding the little findings,
even the ones you might not hope for.
But everything is new, and nothing else matters.

But when everything is old, it just gets
so
****
bad.
Discovery becomes memory
becomes habit becomes apathy
becomes malady leads to tragedy.

Keep going.
Keep wondering.
Keep discovering,
and everything will be new.
When everything is new, it just feels
so
****
good.

People always say there's a first for everything.
well, there's a last for anything.
like the last time i took a deep breath.
or the last dream i had on your chest.
or the very last time that you really caught my eye
call it the very last time i was right.
I've been moving for way too long. takin' shots at all alone.
and my lasts become first wrongs. same paintings in a new home.
like the first time i got caught in her stare.
or the very first time my fingers met her hair.
or the very first time that i've felt right again
call it dangerous, but i like my ice thin.

So I guess I kind of needed it.
I took another drag and thought about all the wonderful things
that were crawling into my lungs, making themselves at home.
I wondered if they liked it, you know, being in my lungs and all.
I don't think they did though,
because I started coughing.
Not the kind of coughing that makes you want a cough drop,
but the kind that makes you question when you'll taste oxygen again.
I just kept coughing.
So here I am, in all my glory,
and all I can think about is the awful color of the tile on this floor.

A man with this kind of black hair once told me that
'if lights had it their way, they wouldn't shine on us.'
and i think he meant it.
I can't say I disagree- I don't really know how I feel about it all.
What else is ******' new.

I never know how to start these things, but i guess i just did, so i can't back out now.
I can feel the smoke.
I can hear the lights.
I can see the walls of this city tremble from the motion.
what a far-fetched kind of notion.
that one could feel this city, in the kind of way that makes you aware of its
pulsing breath.
the streets crumble beneath my feet and suddenly this city leaves me.
the breathing stops, the lights go silent, and the smoke becomes stale, cold air.
I kept my eyes closed and just let it all happen. I felt a dragging in my stomach and a pulling from inside.
then it all stopped.
i open my eyes and actually return.
New York, I can't stop dreaming about you.