Fetal Position
(See that your bandanas is tied good and firm
We don't want no one to see our faces)
Never thought the day would come
I'd synthesize a few more pieces
Satan's great big puzzle blankly printed across new diseases
Apollo, could you show me justice intonated?
I'll take down Kafka's pesticides we've too long celebrated
In the clouds I saw myself a specter on the straight and narrow
Fell back to the ground and broke my fingers as I played piano
My words are sharp but please ignore my countertenor
The text is only gospel if the stage brings you some pleasure
Does Valhalla welcome pacifists?
Oh, I don't fit on my bed anymore
I never sleep but it feels like home
Oh, I don't, I don't, don't fit on my bed anymore
In all my days, I'll never build my Rome
Who's this guy who thinks he's so much better than the megaphones?
Who's this heathen who's afraid of scaring clergy with tritones?
No one's gonna bail you out, no muse or Christophori
The ant mill turns in retrograde, your voice does nothing for me
You won't find yourself inside a paycheck for a counterculture
Stay alive and sing it to a gently screaming wreath of vultures
You got a price tag on your soul that they could rent from 9 to 5 or
You could sell to a suit and tie and lose all your desire
Do you win if you refuse to play?
Oh, I don't fit on my bed anymore
I never sleep but it feels like home
Oh, I don't, I don't, don't fit on my bed anymore
In all my days, I'll never build my Rome
Working for a living
But you never wanted to survive
So build your church on this foundation, yeah
It ain't much of a temple
But your body only ever gonna get you so far
Oh, I don't fit on my bed anymore
I never sleep, but it feels like home, oh
Oh, I don't fit on my (Who's this guy who thinks he's so much)
Bed anymore (Better than the megaphones?)
In all my days (Who's this heathen who's afraid of)
I'll never build my Rome (Scaring clergy with tritones?)
Oh, I don't, I don't, don't fit on my (No one's gonna bail you out)
Bed anymore (No muse or Christophori)
I never sleep (The ant mill turns in retrograde)
But it feels like home (Your voice does nothing for me)
Oh I don't I don't don't fit on my (You won't find yourself inside a)
Bed anymore (Paycheck for a counterculture)
I'll sink beneath, 'cause I'm not (Stay alive and sing it to a)
Made of stone (Gently screaming wreath of vultures)
Never thought the day would come I'd synthesize a few more pieces
Satan's great big puzzle blankly printed across new diseases
We don't want no one to see our faces)
Never thought the day would come
I'd synthesize a few more pieces
Satan's great big puzzle blankly printed across new diseases
Apollo, could you show me justice intonated?
I'll take down Kafka's pesticides we've too long celebrated
In the clouds I saw myself a specter on the straight and narrow
Fell back to the ground and broke my fingers as I played piano
My words are sharp but please ignore my countertenor
The text is only gospel if the stage brings you some pleasure
Does Valhalla welcome pacifists?
Oh, I don't fit on my bed anymore
I never sleep but it feels like home
Oh, I don't, I don't, don't fit on my bed anymore
In all my days, I'll never build my Rome
Who's this guy who thinks he's so much better than the megaphones?
Who's this heathen who's afraid of scaring clergy with tritones?
No one's gonna bail you out, no muse or Christophori
The ant mill turns in retrograde, your voice does nothing for me
You won't find yourself inside a paycheck for a counterculture
Stay alive and sing it to a gently screaming wreath of vultures
You got a price tag on your soul that they could rent from 9 to 5 or
You could sell to a suit and tie and lose all your desire
Do you win if you refuse to play?
Oh, I don't fit on my bed anymore
I never sleep but it feels like home
Oh, I don't, I don't, don't fit on my bed anymore
In all my days, I'll never build my Rome
Working for a living
But you never wanted to survive
So build your church on this foundation, yeah
It ain't much of a temple
But your body only ever gonna get you so far
Oh, I don't fit on my bed anymore
I never sleep, but it feels like home, oh
Oh, I don't fit on my (Who's this guy who thinks he's so much)
Bed anymore (Better than the megaphones?)
In all my days (Who's this heathen who's afraid of)
I'll never build my Rome (Scaring clergy with tritones?)
Oh, I don't, I don't, don't fit on my (No one's gonna bail you out)
Bed anymore (No muse or Christophori)
I never sleep (The ant mill turns in retrograde)
But it feels like home (Your voice does nothing for me)
Oh I don't I don't don't fit on my (You won't find yourself inside a)
Bed anymore (Paycheck for a counterculture)
I'll sink beneath, 'cause I'm not (Stay alive and sing it to a)
Made of stone (Gently screaming wreath of vultures)
Never thought the day would come I'd synthesize a few more pieces
Satan's great big puzzle blankly printed across new diseases
Credits
Writer(s): Caleb Decosta Baker, Jack Anthony Steele
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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