flavor - supercommuter lyrics
everything meticulous. look at me
have you seen one thing that might be
even slightly defined as exciting or remotely conspicuous?
no. do i look suspicious?
i’m a white man, 40 years old. so no
i exploit this. suburban camo, cops avoid this
and i mastered the art. never set myself apart
i never get better than the mean average
but i’m mean when it’s time to start
just look at my car. drive by and forget
some kind of import, wasn’t it?
quite quick with a favor. they call me a really good neighbor
if you saw me mowing my lawn, you’d move right on
with a nod or a wave or maybe a chat
but you’d keep it brief. i am so uninteresting
that’s what i need you to think
i stay sharp, don’t smoke. don’t drink
don’t jeopardize my privacy
i pull the shades down, i eat
lock the doors and close up all the curtains
i don’t want them to know how i’m working
flavor
i got this friend. well, not really this friend but this guy i know
well, i don’t really know his name but i know where to go
and i know what to bring—one cooler and a band
knock three times, then scram. lay low
don’t sit there wringing my hands
wait for the page. get it
scram
pick it up—oh man, that’s nice
feel so heavy packed with ice
this weight is re-ssuring. it’s great, my smile’s wide
slow gate, no need to hurry. at home, it’s piled high
open up, my eyes get m-ssive. dark red and lots of plastic
unzip it. then sniff it. it’s fresh it smells fantastic
i don’t know where he gets it, but he keeps his prices realistic
it’s nice, it’s so consistent. always finishes my list it’s
awesome. and so discreet. lets me hook up once a week
some are gamey, some are sweet
don’t complain, bon appét-t!
i just love it, so unique. when i eat, i deeply think:
who was this and who was that?
l!ck the gristle, chew the fat
thick or slender, tough or tender
every cut—it’s in the bag
from the tongue to the lung, i’m no vegetarian
ground chuck, pot luck, seven courses—never one
off the grill, it’s a mess. au jus—it tastes the best
though i only dine alone, i hope you’ll be my dinner guest
lock the doors and close up all the curtains
i don’t want them to know how i’m working
flavor
standing over a stove, my reflection
bits and pieces undergo convection
flavor
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