This is not your ordinary ballad
With a perfect little bow around the middle
And a black knight on a white horse
Or a white knight on a black horse
It's got all these tired parts where
We don't even sing at random
Princess, raise the drawbridge
We don't serve your kind
It ends where it begins
And the beginning isn't pretty
Can't forget that not-so-perfect
Bow around the middle ('round the middle, 'round the middle)
And it goes a little something like this...
Moon walking a broken soul pedigree incessant
Gut the cruddy frame
The zealots enveloped inside the belly of the blame
Cut-throats the result of pulp jokes soaked in poacher constants
And not a jewel amidst coal, wander prominent... honor (honor)
I barter silkworms by the bucket like starter kits
Sew your first martyr stitch
Join damaged mammoth brigading caper
Nurse the tantrum with a fantasy chaser
I keep a spare wing strapped to my fuses
In case the hackers snatch the plumage
So you mean these things are worth money now
Drifting off this is the who you calling homeless
Mighty fearful twisted and tonight I got front row
Tickets to the dead concert and your in it
Icabod running out of morals for my allegory... moseying
And my kind of people will sell only circles...
With my eyes patched in a not so new universe
So I beckon and bray but pretty bird just ain't muting the many
Oh it'll be soon, Balloon immune to doom blend
I ain't ditchin' the kitchen til every spoon bends
A glance along tomorrow's sorry looking lot of hopefuls
Was the rain dance my little flint never dreamed would flutter potable
I sanitize nothing for the sake of contemporary taste
Contemporary taste made my lip drop in the first place. Incoming .
You wanna be a czar?
Idolize fallen heroics, recognize root of the worship
Search and hold it.
Who put the fun in dysfunctional?
I, prodigal son combustible
Donkey punchin' pinholes in uncomfortable
Zen conjuctionals for good.
The bear cubs slob a goblet of dirt wine
I nurse a single application of introvert serpentine
A sunset without a scrape of red plastic bag
Noise sunk down around his head sick, sick, sick... stealing a peak
There's a sickness in the roofer's eyes
And his alone and nothing terrible happened to the bag
Wrongs spilled off in and brought on out the clouds
The hiss cut's out spills it's voice into me and the window
Full of star is fresh kept from where I'm going
Or the other only other way art.
I've got charcoals in my heart, I've got charcoals in my heart
I've got charcoals by the armfuls that burn my armor apart
I've got charcoals in my heart, but I've got charcoals in my heart
I've got charcoals by the armfuls that burn my armor apart
And before, when I said
"Shut the fuck up, it's none of your business"
That was to be in vein
Be sure to lock that up when you're all finished... uhh
Well you see I usually finish this number with my skull open
Everybody rally round the novel burner, spit, murder the matches
Where the junkies trade diseases and the gullible trade passions
Now the masses wanna lean on me like 'Oh Captain, my CaptainNot considering maybe this orphan hosts morbid attachments...
"Button, button, who's got the button"
Take my name... please...
Leaks the little gentle-man
Made out of lightning inside my lock box
Oh, you like to help with coats
Wait until you see what I got in this here locket
This is not your ordinary ballad
With a perfect little bow around the middle
And a black knight on a white horse
Or a white knight on a black horse
It's got all these tired parts where
We don't even sing at random
Princess, raise the drawbridge
We don't serve your kind
It ends where it begins
And the beginning isn't pretty
Can't forget that not-so-perfect
Bow around the middle ('round the middle, 'round the middle)