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april showers - julian jefko lyrics

verse 1:

it’s the deep wizard, with so much in his hat/
you’d think of cheech wizard, so cheap that i steal/
free dinners, that’s a knee slapper, on the real/
though, no wonder i need to be thinner, belly’s/
getting bigger, and rarely do my sneaks ever shimmer/
dress code is best clothes for a hobo in the street/
my jeans (genes) and my innards being ruined by the sweets/
that have entered, kinda odd how i reap something bitter/
how my t–th turn to sunsets and leap from the winter/
solar flares in my sh-t, at the tips/
of my gums, you could see em if you lift up my lips/
man i’m dremmelled them for weeks, adrenaline is piqued/
at the sound at the voice of a feminine speech/
tryna speak on par with the feathers and fleets/
but my impediments leak and then i’m destined to sink/
go back to third grade and p-ss some notes out/
and d-mn while we’re at it, let’s add in my nose now/
even ponichio, he wouldn’t know how/
i live with satellites of saturn on top of my whole mouth/
need to see scissor hands, not tryna be rapunzel/
i’m puzzled because it’s more like tarzan hit the jungle/
you’re not fly just cause you got the ears of dumbo/
you dumbo your whole head screams struggle/

chorus:

have a tendency to act a little different/
anomaly and odd is just how i fit in/
really awkward, stay postured/
in the midst of all the sh-t that i fostered/

verse 2:

i have a fetish for spoons filled with rust/
salad fingers, and my rooms like a tomb filled with dust/
often lose attention, never tuned into much/
i’m a fuse of a klutz and a dude with a musical/
touch so using it sucks, i’ve been booed/
off stage and the most i ever made from performing’s/
12 bucks, keep my shirts in a animal/
shed, or at least that’s what you think because my animals/
shed so much, i look like a moses/
no wonder i look like a stoner, smoke/
and the clouds must’ve choked me like homer, provoked/
by the slabs of commandments i wrote up, inspired/
by the folds of the book that i rolled, by the th-rns/
and the roses, i bore on my shoulders/
split the seas on my head so the lice could freed/
that’s a white dress up, but soon the mist clears/
the facade to persuade you i’m gourmet and cultured/
in real life i look like i foreplay with vultures/
mouth looks like it fought a cheese grater/
though i drink more than camels, though i channel whole c-n-ls/
to my tongue, never do they overcome all the deserts/
that i’ve sampled, all the sand that i’ve walked through with sandals/
and fans don’t exist, when i say/
i put the flames on wax, i only mean a candle/

chorus:

verse 3:

sometimes, i lack the sense so common/
i can’t cook ramen and my mental comments/
about my mishaps are like some potential comets/
hit my temple till brandishes are stenciled on it/
i can tend to overthink things/
should i have wrote that bar, should i say i haven’t showered/
since the days of tutankhamen, should i joke that hard?/
or tell you that i used to fear my door bell/
should i go that far? i don’t know/
maybe throw that part down the deepest dumpster/
descend to see my teenage mutant brothers covered in some/
pepperonis, my body’s more dirty than my mind/
in the gutter, meet the mix of a bigfoot/
yeti and sasquatch with prominent paranoia/
i padlock my padlocks and then i throw the key/
in a matchbox, my head’s about the size/
of a mascot’s, for some i’m a dog chasing pavlov/
earwax is plenty, traveling with earwigs/
no wonder i feel like a javelin had pierced them/
i’m adamantly fearsome, in virtue of the thickness/
of my brows, it’s a catalyst to sear some traumatic/
images and open the path to your tear ducts/
in short, an evidently weird f-ck/
but i’m cool with the way that it is/

chorus

- julian jefko lyrics

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