the elephant man in the room - the callous daoboys lyrics
cardboard devils, old s*x
here where the titans beg for scr*ps
it’s hard to think
“warm and peachy”
(here, do you justify the ends?
do you mock them where they stand?
do you love them for their dead?)
sitting in wait for the moon phase to change
the only way, truly, to deal with this place
“half circle”
to the gold rush, lover, i’ll go for rights
to marry you sweetly, one november night
my flask will run empty
unlike the calvary
bullet tags on my spurs on the off chance
that i die in the sand, or the lawman is no
b*st*rd inception of harlot conclusions
enslaved to the lake where his paramour sleeps
and if i make it west, if it takes all year
i’ll swallow my tongue and curse route 66
man it sure would take a hollow bride
to decline this dowry
so everybody in the brave new world
put a saddle on the nearest creature
bow your head and do this for me
pray for this world
whatever we get, we f*cking deserve
wrapped in a casket, my darling, she lay
with hands on her death bed, each morning i prayed
for my violence
to not be inherited
send me to h*ll if it means she’s at peace
i’ll serve my sentence
all senseless death, can be mended
but how?
if you sail to the edge
starboard off the back of a grizzly
i see the beginning of the ice wall
continents of olden days
i must report back to my country
the cia says, “just sit down son”
i will not be f*cking silenced
radicals made by a programmer
god’s favorite psy*op
the child you dream of, she doesn’t exist
she’s just as fake as the sp*ce
on the ground where you lay your
head
i see patience growing thin
true disturbance will run empty
unlike my paranoia
still stuck on the same page i disowned
still sick from the flavor of youth
found out that the poison was my own
no truth to the cause
no deep state lies
i have seen the elephant
held its trunk in my hands
i think i’m ready, november
i think i’m gonna need a bullh*rn
to speak with charisma to the masses
to everybody in the whole wide world
this thing we don’t speak of
it’s called “living life”
the end sure is nigh
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