Slinging Our Times

Hey where'd that color go, we're dull and modern
Staring into drains and weather vanes
My trophy broke my knuckles drag
My meter's off my refresh rates lag
It's like a mausoleum in that bedroom
White stone walls and gilded halls
Ringing a bell from the shadows of my royal birth
Milking maidens and shining mirrors
Stocking gun powder and turning everything louder
Bartering with conjoined twins and necrophiliacs
Stacking up racks of black masks
Getting ready or getting lucky
Normalizing hormonal atonement
Sucker punching our purest opponent
Arms out, eyes ablaze, speaking in tongues
Wrapped in rugs, partially consumed by another room
Meditating in a basement jail
Exiled ex-expert no longer relevant
Deceptive pond reflection
It's likely a fairy tale we put up for sale
Forty dollars for an ending
Fifty dollars for a hero
One hundred dollars and you come home
To a stone embankment
Old women say thanks but no thanks
They're thankless
Still painting clouds and making rounds
And I'm rounding the rotunda
Gesturing at fresco
Fingers tracing, elevating
Offering you two choices
Offering you two choices
C'mon let's go

You have nerves of steel
You have valid opinions
You have moxie for days
You have a habit of winning
You have a calm demeanor
You have a thousand yard stare
You have electrified teeth
You have medusa-like hair
You have nerves of steel
You have valid opinions
You have moxie for days
You have a habit of winning
You have a calm demeanor
You have a thousand yard stare
You have electrified teeth
You have medusa-like hair

But there's only cold cuts
There's a bucket of cream
Oh, you're that second mouse darling
If you know what I mean
Tapping on the glass, it reflects back
You're your own animal it's obvious
And you're still stealing my scenes
And we spiral up the stairs
To the spire in the sky
Slowly shuffling our stories
To the patchwork paperboy
Slinging our times
And the nomads thunder out beyond the quarry's lip
Negotiating with this silence
For an opportunity to strip
And each lesson learned folds in on itself
You stroke your beard and she plays with herself
Then a meter maid hunches over
And rubs a kiss on your nerves

You have whiplash mania
You have a broken chain of command
You have those white gardenias
You have those outdated plans
You have heavy eyelids
You have a bull in a cage
You have my sincere attention
You have the world's last slave
You have ten million colors
You have a permanent grin
You have some starlight romance
You have my original sins