Interested in Cryptocurrency?
Visit best CoinMarketCap alternative. Real time updates, cryptocurrency price prediction...

AESOP ROCK lyrics - Skelethon


Original and similar lyrics
Postcards from the pink bath paint leisure As a cloaked horse through a stained-glass Saint Peter Hack faith-healer, cheat death to the very end Cherry wooden nickels on his specs for the ferrymen X, o, zodiac a pentagram expo Pet cemetery in electric fresco Abaddon threshold flesh-forged in the galley With undead orcs pulling oars through the algae Smash cut to a smoke-bombed quarantine Guards like "all signs correlate with sorcery" It's more a dormant cell of valor as awoken by the smell of sordid power And defecting shortly after Fist bump dry land, brackish, cat nap 15 Back to swiss-cheese the flagship, uh Blue in the menacing grip of a day for which you're manifestly unfit Final answer "not to be", "not to be" is right! Next question - to build winged shoes or autophagy Silk screen band tees, take apart a vcr, ringer off, canned peas Cabin fever mi amor Patiently adhering to the chandelier ta key-in-door To usher in the understated anarchy of leisureforce Led a purple tongue and ratty caballeros Up over the black rainbow into the house of mirrors To become a thousand zeroes Echoing a twisted alchemy, freak flags, fluttering to circadian free jazz Sleep apnea scratching "bring that beat back" I doze off, clothes on, noise in the feedbag Shhh.. om nom nom, blinds drawn Compost thrown to the spine pile, bygones, mangy Intimately spaced pylons on a plot of inhospitable terrain Hi mom! [Hook] Raise up the bridge, lower the portcullis, rain forks into mutton No abort button, heart pump assorted color sugar water Poor lummox, unexplained ailments, and doesn't work well with others Wet nose on the glass, garibaldi half cookie dough, lock jaw Don 4 walls like a wooden coat, behold the rotting fruit of excommunication A ruby tide insubordinate to lunar phases That maneuver past the beaches to the bosom of the pavement Now the bow drill smolder in a flooded bit of basement Grace of misled teen who prefers his scenes with a little Wilhelm scream The ambush predator edition, skill set of Will Tell Aim and speed over short distance Part hatter-mad, part erratic habitat, dark matter harnessing his heart attack-ack-ack-ack-ack Midsummer bit crusher, mid winter bit shifter, no sleep, gold mine, front door circled, proceed, low light, 24 curfews, crows beak, cold night, unmoored virtue, proceed, snow-blind, 24 curfews

Waters Of March

ANYA MARINA "Slow & Steady Seduction: Phase II"
É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho É um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho A stick, a stone, It's the end of the road, It's feeling alone It's the weight of your load It's a sliver of glass It's light, it's the sun It's night, it's death It's a knife, it's a gun A flower that blooms A fox in the brush A knot in the wood The song of a thrush The mystery of life The steps down the hall The sound of the wind And the waterfall It's the moon floating free The curve of the slope It's an ant, it's a bee It's a reason for hope And the riverbank sings Of the waters of March It's the promise of Spring It's the joy in your heart É o pé, é o chão, é a marcha estradeira Passarinho na mão, pedra de atiradeira É uma ave no céu, é uma ave no chão É um regato, é uma fonte, é um pedaço de pão É o fundo do poço, é o fim do caminho No rosto o desgosto, é um pouco sozinho A spear, a spike, A stake, a nail It's a drip, it's a drop It's the end of the tale The dew on a leaf In the morning light The shot of a gun In the dead of night A mile, a must A thrust, a bump It's the will to survive It's a jolt, it's a jump The prim of a house A body in bed A car stuck in the mud It's the mud, it's the mud A fish, a flash A wish, a wing It's a hawk, it's a dove It's the promise of Spring And the riverbank sings Of the waters of March It's the end of despair It's the joy in your heart É uma cobra, é um pau, é João, é José É um espinho na mão, é um corte no pé São as águas de março fechando o verão É a promessa de vida no teu coração A stick, a stone It's the end of the road The stump of a tree It's a frog, it's a toad A sigh, a breath A walkaround A life or death A ray in the sun And the riverbank sings Of the waters of March It's the promise of life It's the joy in your heart

26-Hour Day

JAY BRANNAN "Unmastered"
Once upon our time in a land far gone where hate crime’s enforced by state crime even though they say the land of the free was made for both you and me Well, the girl next door might have cancer and the hospital nearby’s got the answer, but she’s never been there, can’t afford healthcare in the arms of the home of the brave, she’s carried to her grave Marionettes for presidents, strung out on wars and we’re not sure who’s american anymore division of church and state is my kind of separatism spreading god’s love through scare tactics is casual terrorism and if abortion’s murder, let’s strip that right away, and who gave women the right to vote anyway? So many babies brought into the world today amongst so many maybes like maybe they’ll feel loved, be provided for, and have a place to stay but instead of placing them in loving stable homes that might not fill the conservative bill they’re tossed around the foster system like a hot potato instead of making friends of dorothy they’re thrown to the tornado Death warrants signed by murderers who came to power through the back door is this democracy or a monarchy what do we hold elections for you write your personal agenda on a post-it note and leave the constitution lying on the bathroom floor This is for the world trade center, for columbine for oklahoma city and the lost and lonely friends of mine for ireland, iran, iraq and the suffering caused by the indian ocean’s attack for falun gong and the berlin wall the homeless, the hungry, and slaves to drugs and alcohol indian, australian, african slaves native americans whose amber waves of grain were melted down into white men’s riches victims of war and for salem’s witches for boys who were told to act more like boys and girls who were told to only play with girl toys the voiceless, forgotten, plagued by disease god help us please, please, please Maybe one day I’ll stop alternating between thirteen hours of eating and thirteen hours of sleeping and do something about it with what i guess could have been a twenty-six hour day


Faith And The Muse
A thousand dreamers crept as one Journey'd by the colder sun Knocked at the chamber's gate Yet this sleeper does not wake In the oracle overhung With careless whispers, ivystung Their tiny fingers cling to warmth A home for the love weary heart Onward sacrarium, time sojourns Polanquin leads this path adorned While reverent creatures soft prepare The slumberous beauty carried there And lay their hands on silken skin As through these veins the gods did run Two thousand arms in twilight Endless dream and endless night Past echoed ruins overgrown Small voices drift in ancient tongue Mindful to their deepest wish For a home to the love weary heart In soft embrace I now arise And search for peace in hungering eyes Thy faces change: my love renames Our starlit world, the past remains Forgotten by linnear spite One thousand pairs of second sight Who through my eyes at last may see We are divinity We choose to be

Straight To My Heart

STING "Nothing Like The Sun"
Well in a hundred years from now They will attempt to tell us how A scientific means to bliss Will supercede the human kiss A sub atomic chain Will maybe galvanize your brain A biochemic trance Will eliminate romance But why ever should we care When there are arrows in the air Formed by lovers' ancient art That go straight to my heart A future sugar coated pill Would give our lovers time to kill I think they're working far too much For the redundancy of touch But what will make me yours Are a millions deadly spores Formed by lovers' ancient art That go straight to my heart Come into my door Be the light of my life Come into my door You'll never have to sweep the floor Come into my door Be the light of my life Come into my door Come and be my wife I'll be true. To no one but you If it's a future would we fear We have tomorrow's seeds right here For you can hold them in your hand Or let them fall into the sand But if our love is pure The only thing of which we're sure Then you can play your part And fly straight to my heart If I should seek immunity And love you with impunity Then the only thing to do Is for me to pledge myself to you But they only dealt one card So for me it is not hard You're the bright star in my chart You go straight to my heart Come into my door Be the light of my life Come into my door You'll never have to sweep the floor Come into my door Be the light of my life Come into my door Come and be my wife I'll be true. To no one but you

Obsessed With Childhood

BIF NAKED "Okenspay Ordway 1: Things I Forgot To Tell Mommy"
I have to tell you I am obsessed with my childhood. I never pooped. I'm serious, I hated pooing, I never did it. I refused to poo as child. Mostly, I couldn't. It wasn't meat loaf, it wasn't chicken and rice, it wasn't six hot-dogs at lunch with Kraft Dinner on top, it wasn't Sloppy Joe's, it wasn't inactivity, I just never ever pooped. My parents had this house on Milinocket Court that had a bathroom upstairs. It had a door in the hallway and a door in the master bedroom. They used to close the hallway door, open the bedroom door, sit me on the potty and pull the t.v. in there you know, so I'd sit and watch and …wait. I mean hours. I must have been rotting insdie1 It would be like a week in between. You know, I discussed this at length with my mom, and she was concerned thinking she fed me too much meat and stuff. But you know what I say, my two sisters had no problem pooping, and they ate the same suppers. It was just me. I was sick as a child, I mean I was always sick. If I fell off my bike and got a scrape, it would be infected. When I had the chicken pox, I was hospitalized because each pock was infected. Each one! In my eyelids, everywhere. The nurses had to dab each pock with a medicated cotton ball. My dad used to take us camping, and this one time I stepped on a dirty nail, you know, like rusty, with my barefoot. My whole hell became infected (laughs). It was hug! My heel was the size of a volleyball! I had to go to the doctor and get it drained. I was so ticklish all the time it took 5 or 6 doctors and nurses to hold me down and then the feeling of the lanced hell, and I was screaming. My older sister was laughing her head off, right there. I had scarletina this one time, and was quarantined. I had a tonsillectomy. I even remember one time in the hospital, of course for you know the reason. A nurse was trying to put a suppository in my rear end. I was squirming and wrigglin' and gigglin'. You know, cause I was getting tickled. Then I'd cry, c ause I was all tense, you know, and it hurt. Sooner or later, I had to make a run for it to the bathroom. Boy, those nurses sure got mad at me for leavin' a trail. Someone's always mad, hey? You know, I took lots of things as a kid; ballet and jazz, dance, soccer, piano. I was always in trouble, always bein' a ham. When I was 5 we were all on the stage with these cardboard clocks like, you know, two feet across, tied around us with string, like a sandwich board. We were all moving our arms back and forth, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock . I was wearing red buckle shoes, that I know. Well, my string broke and the clock fell off, night there on stage, I just stood there, frozen, and bawling. The teacher had to walk on to the stage and carry me off. You know, I reacted the same way when that stagedivin' crowd surfer kicked my microphone into my teeth. Hey, the more things change. I quit all of it eventually. Dance class cause I got lazy, soccer cause I grew boobs, and piano cause my teac her, Mrs. Davies, got mad at me and called me a stupid girl and banged my hands on the keys. You know I was even a cheerleader. Hey, in grade 6 in Kentucky it was a cool thing. ‘S-U-C-C-E-S-S, that's the way we spell success!'. I can't believe it. (laughs) ‘V-I-C-T-O-R-Y, victory, victory is our cry gotta go'. That's how it went. I don't really remember the hand movements. But, uh, I was never one of the popular cheerleaders. I remember this girl April was very popular, and this other girl Jennifer was very popular. There were like, we were all in grade 6, but they had, like, bodies of 17year old people. And, and hey looked like Farrah Fawcett, you know all blond with feathered hair and endless teeth. I didn't look like that. I wonder if my dad wouldn't have moved us around so much, what if I woulda turn out different? You know, normal? Or am I? I, I'm obsessed with my childhood. Cause I dont' think I'm fully grown up. Are you? I mean really? I am my inner child. I had to search for my inner adult. And I'm still lookin'. I still eat 6 hot dogs for lunch, they're just vegetarian now.

Was it funny? Share it with friends!