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42 - ydna lyrics

pet rabbit napping in a castle made of cardboard
days come like needles digging deep into the dartboard
feeble, when heaving wounded knee up from the hard floor
to shave with a mirror, got rust spots like car doors
dust blocks the vents, the smoke they blow is harsh and co*rs*
nicotine adhering to the walls and doors
kitchen corner grows spores, that float from a stalk with red spots
but overall, look dark and porous
coffee table, it’s a barn wood door supported by a box of cords
and a worn out panasonic, shorted out cord cut clean
stowed in the same box on the floor
for lord knows what, on display three cups
from the prior trio of days before
hollow as a geode with a great repoire
but go and grab another, if you’re waiting on the maid there’ll be 80 more
every day feel fatter, unhealthy, unwealthy
friends tell him he should gain some more
cause they can see ribs through both jackets and blazer worn
when emerging from the cave of vidja games and p*rn
to sip surge, walk planks, every day he’s bored
makes decisions like a random number generator
verified vindication venerator, very vader

every day i open my eyes
back to the monotony, it’s no surprise
i just pray i find my way
no one ever said to me i’d be ok
dead, in need of batteries, exhaustive constant addling
prefer to sleep, return to dream by hum of the cacophony
to visualize catastrophe, emotionally atrophied
bed sags low from all the weight he’s got to drag to sleep
addict hiding in the attic, add another rap to beats
scream attica and add it up through more subtractive means
adamant about combat, leave the battle bleeding
scar tales need a scar to point at when you’re speaking
otherwise, pull sheep skin over wolf skull, screaming
doing everything to pull some meaning from the ouija
like clockwork, peer upon the possible epiphany
the distance from it doubles, the alarm starts ringing

awaken in the after*morning, soreness forming puddles
make a break for happy, trip and land in more assorted troubles
take it laughing, never crack or the facade will pop, a bubble
feeling like all other songs in the discogro of the buggles
apart from video k!lled, living in literal filth
ya boy save money getting drunk by taking minimal swills
beside breakfast, four walls, no windows or exits
ego rhode island, regrets is his texas

every day i open my eyes
back to the monotony, it’s no surprise
i just pray i find my way
no one ever said to me i’d be ok
by mid*day to late afternoon, he lost the will to live
chilling in them bilge filled walls, built em building thick
attentiveness by ten til six is still amiss like taking swings
but skip the hits like quitting spliffs, imminence
in sending in the self*hate, with which he’s very intimate
grimace in his eyes, life spoon feeds him cinnamon, he’s given in
mirror image hisses at it’s synonym it’s living with
he goes to punch the mirror in… that’s seven years more, bro
you think you’d learn your lesson from transgressions around about seven years ago, no
his captors claw and grab and knock him savage in the b*lls again
too up his own ass to see, they’re pictures in the hall he’s in
autumn’s in the air, cold wind blows, he falls again
ever*loving soul but so reflectively intolerant
it’s awesome how he isolates himself til lonely’s all he gets
then paints his only company as totally a ball of sh*t
and all of this as modern menches calmly sit and call the shots
he’s halfway to his kamikaze quips again, he’s not okay
lost his way and trying to recall
where he meant to be and where he put his better days
egghead on desk edge, temple dermatology split
lost consciousness, vision gone, knees on wobble, pitch
and yaw all mottled and twisted, time slows for an instant
tile closes the distance for linoleum kisses, and

every day i open my eyes
back to the monotony, its no surprise
sleep in late, i’m wasting my time
wish i had the chance to know that i’d be fine
sunset, eyes slide open, head thrumming
blood*shot equilibrium, balance on a budget
shoulders, even lifting em’s a talent in my current boat
canoeing? oh but do you think this injury’s concussive?
anyhow, i pull myself into the couches’ clutches
if i ever left the house, i’d find a helpful pound and puff it
for the stresses that compound, could never round up enough of it
to get up out this rut and slump, i set the trap i’m caught up in
hand upon the ottoman to stand, stomach volatile
sodden in the solitude, fan my face to quell the bile
all the while, glancing gaze to find a cloth to wipe away
the crimson caked across my brow and domicile
bump into a stack of trash, gnats are going wild
jump across the pile, grab a washcloth and swipe
readjust ojos, so*o long i’ve stowed the guile
like a blue moon, i slowly smile
of all the memories of the eastern wall that i’m recalling stored
and with all the days i’ve seen it empty, keeping with my chic decor
each time i’ve passed by it, seeking some relief, i’m sure
i swear to god i’ve never seen that door before

- ydna lyrics

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