Busdriver, Radioinactive with Daedelus - Thousand Words lyrics
[Busdriver, Radioinactive with Daedelus - Thousand Words lyrics]
The word of the day is right before you
Every word will sell every
Sentence and tissue
Every paragraph and organ the
Systems are chapters
That compose of body (The body)
The body of writing like a body
Of water vast in deep
You’ll a quill your anchor for your
Oil tankers no longer sea worthy
I’d rather water walk
Who's the first nigga to sea
Walk to the moon?
What is sound system as is place of worship?
I make more noise when I sneeze
Cough and croon
But, I don’t expect 'em to attend
My peace talks in June
Where I’ll read off the tomb
Of the head stones etch a sketch
Epitaph wearing the head phones
And become a head rest for the steadfast
Who could never mesh or wear a flesh mask
Let alone be good better best
To meet death last the word of the day is
I give black flowers to my indie releases
And the people sitting for
A half hour miniseries
With a good book Jesus on the TV guide
In light of this is a stern
Eagerness to take Nietzsche’s side
As an ongoing Easter egg hunt for
The screen play of the month
Sucking the flesh sculpted rubber duckies
Screaming mother fuck me
Till they gut a monkey and get
Dead beneath our mother country
The word of the day is normal
You look rather peppy chum
Have you not been implanted
With a personality Pentiums
The circles can be scrambled but
The end beat drums
And the after life requiems
The drum pads are punching bags
Full of hourglass sand which one struck
And expostulates the past and future
You use to play patty cake
With your math tutor
But now you jab the ruler in the
Power cord of the master computer
Saying the voices told you it
Was our last stand
And make the absolute power crash land
Oh, no, Johnny's cracking up
Oh, no, Johnny needs a head shrink oh, no
It's 'cause Johnny's a pervert
Who has wet dreams
But fear not we can get help jet streamed
To him through the internet on the screen
We’ll make an upstanding citizen of him yet
The word of the day is
This record will not be played in this world
But when the world is dead
It's played in the astral plane
Where these flagpoles inflamed
And lays in a pearl bed where it's worshiped
By MC nude peasants acting prepubescent
Under a bleeding moon crescent
I’m often asked what instrument do I play
I play the gaps between thought
Thought that evacuates space
But it’s a fully orchestrated concert hall
And I'm never going back to touch base
To the four corners, four
Walls, four by four, free for all
Feeding frenzy the word of the day is mind
You can't map the psyche on
The mathematicians scratch paper
In me there's a Tarzan in a
Loin cloth and a taxpayer
Tearing each other apart
Who overthrows who depends on a coin toss
Say your last prayer while you're alive and
Kicking the next minute you're fried chicken
Gross, overexposed mutated cell division
Do into a television sec
Given by the hell risen sex, ruling class
And you’ve heard of those who’ve
Held dinner with execs
But, you’ve never get to
Smell the vinaigrettes
'Cause you haven’t accepted shmoozing
As a craft and opportunities are moving fast
(where’d you go?) you don’t mind do you (no)
To mine would be to take responsibility
But, I'm sure I can borrow
Some of your integral trait's
And throw them to the federal state
But is this his or her's? is
This mine or yours or
It must not be hers 'cause her's
You can buy in stores
And he keeps his behind doors, but this
This is some kind of Neolithic minosaur
Gazed upon by the minefield
Field hands who prefer
And more inclined to kneel than stand
The word of the day is right before you
Silence is my dial-tone I collect call
Who you call god
With that freestyle that can redial
All the smiles from home
Just play phone tag, trying to
Hear a song from me
And wrongfully immortalize stone slabs
I wrote this in a little room
Lined with white foam pads
Memorizing each line to a particular
Chord in the room
Or join in and eat away your depression
With a fork and a spoon
I did it, barfed it up packaged it
Gave it a marketing scheme
And now then titled it's own
Record company and insurance plan
Separate from me the world?
I mean the word of the day is lawful
My parents consider me a
Disappointment a complete failure
'Cause, I fled from med school
To be a drum-beat tailor
Hmm my sixth sense tells me the
Average clean cut ivy league
Pious family man feeds on the
Young behind the picket fence
Me I bellow songs till I'm
Tired and my tongues purple
And office spaces that have been turned
Into bonfires and drum circles
Doing interpretative dances on a mouse pad
And get reprimanded by the supervisor and
His mode of pimp strolls
Infuriated at this cursor blimp
Extracting truth from the swollen lymph nodes
On a loathing minstrels
Wearing Jesus Christ sneakers
Air JC’s with holes in the insoles
Holes in the insoles!
As we speak there’s a nigga
Doing kapha wear Angola
With a cool grin besides a can of soda
Meeting all demands and quotas
From a studio audience
As of right now I know that
I’m one of god’s fresh bookers
On a job hunt to win the
Hand of a soft fresh hooker
And seek happiness in processed sugars
The word of the day is
I suppress anger then appear on
Stage and dress for strangers
Flashing my naked drum from my trench coat
Burn shit out of my native tongue
Drenched and soaked in cow blood
Hecklers snicker and joke with
Their pals and buds
Well, make yourself known
All you’ll see is dead smoke
Then hear a loud thud your style sucks
Yeah sure this style’s crud
But at least I know how to love
At least I know that in aiding my
Melancholy rhyming’s just a mild jug
A pain reliever, a brain teaser
A fake hint to a brand new scheme
This whole time you’ve been listening
To an answering machine
At the sound of the beep you won’t
Know whether to laugh or scream
But, you’ll know that you’re afraid of
The deep end of the pool
And nigga I skinny dip then put it on
MiniDisc and there’s no cancer in the stream
Yes, but the word of the day is happy
I'm so happy right now
I'm so happy to be recording this song
And you’re very happy and this is
The end of the song
Yes we are approaching the near end
And don’t you even fear of your rear end for
It will not be saved in the afterlife
Be very happy, the word of the day is happy
The word of the day is rejoice
The word of the day is 99 cents off
Any afterlife purchase made after this point
The word of the day is, the word
Of the day is is, uh, melancholy
The word of the day is Al Gore
The word of the day is style galore
The word of the day is you
Every word will sell every
Sentence and tissue
Every paragraph and organ the
Systems are chapters
That compose of body (The body)
The body of writing like a body
Of water vast in deep
You’ll a quill your anchor for your
Oil tankers no longer sea worthy
I’d rather water walk
Who's the first nigga to sea
Walk to the moon?
What is sound system as is place of worship?
I make more noise when I sneeze
Cough and croon
But, I don’t expect 'em to attend
My peace talks in June
Where I’ll read off the tomb
Of the head stones etch a sketch
Epitaph wearing the head phones
And become a head rest for the steadfast
Who could never mesh or wear a flesh mask
Let alone be good better best
To meet death last the word of the day is
I give black flowers to my indie releases
And the people sitting for
A half hour miniseries
With a good book Jesus on the TV guide
In light of this is a stern
Eagerness to take Nietzsche’s side
As an ongoing Easter egg hunt for
The screen play of the month
Sucking the flesh sculpted rubber duckies
Screaming mother fuck me
Till they gut a monkey and get
Dead beneath our mother country
The word of the day is normal
You look rather peppy chum
Have you not been implanted
With a personality Pentiums
The circles can be scrambled but
The end beat drums
And the after life requiems
The drum pads are punching bags
Full of hourglass sand which one struck
And expostulates the past and future
You use to play patty cake
With your math tutor
But now you jab the ruler in the
Power cord of the master computer
Saying the voices told you it
Was our last stand
And make the absolute power crash land
Oh, no, Johnny's cracking up
Oh, no, Johnny needs a head shrink oh, no
It's 'cause Johnny's a pervert
Who has wet dreams
But fear not we can get help jet streamed
To him through the internet on the screen
We’ll make an upstanding citizen of him yet
The word of the day is
This record will not be played in this world
But when the world is dead
It's played in the astral plane
Where these flagpoles inflamed
And lays in a pearl bed where it's worshiped
By MC nude peasants acting prepubescent
Under a bleeding moon crescent
I’m often asked what instrument do I play
I play the gaps between thought
Thought that evacuates space
But it’s a fully orchestrated concert hall
And I'm never going back to touch base
To the four corners, four
Walls, four by four, free for all
Feeding frenzy the word of the day is mind
You can't map the psyche on
The mathematicians scratch paper
In me there's a Tarzan in a
Loin cloth and a taxpayer
Tearing each other apart
Who overthrows who depends on a coin toss
Say your last prayer while you're alive and
Kicking the next minute you're fried chicken
Gross, overexposed mutated cell division
Do into a television sec
Given by the hell risen sex, ruling class
And you’ve heard of those who’ve
Held dinner with execs
But, you’ve never get to
Smell the vinaigrettes
'Cause you haven’t accepted shmoozing
As a craft and opportunities are moving fast
(where’d you go?) you don’t mind do you (no)
To mine would be to take responsibility
But, I'm sure I can borrow
Some of your integral trait's
And throw them to the federal state
But is this his or her's? is
This mine or yours or
It must not be hers 'cause her's
You can buy in stores
And he keeps his behind doors, but this
This is some kind of Neolithic minosaur
Gazed upon by the minefield
Field hands who prefer
And more inclined to kneel than stand
The word of the day is right before you
Silence is my dial-tone I collect call
Who you call god
With that freestyle that can redial
All the smiles from home
Just play phone tag, trying to
Hear a song from me
And wrongfully immortalize stone slabs
I wrote this in a little room
Lined with white foam pads
Memorizing each line to a particular
Chord in the room
Or join in and eat away your depression
With a fork and a spoon
I did it, barfed it up packaged it
Gave it a marketing scheme
And now then titled it's own
Record company and insurance plan
Separate from me the world?
I mean the word of the day is lawful
My parents consider me a
Disappointment a complete failure
'Cause, I fled from med school
To be a drum-beat tailor
Hmm my sixth sense tells me the
Average clean cut ivy league
Pious family man feeds on the
Young behind the picket fence
Me I bellow songs till I'm
Tired and my tongues purple
And office spaces that have been turned
Into bonfires and drum circles
Doing interpretative dances on a mouse pad
And get reprimanded by the supervisor and
His mode of pimp strolls
Infuriated at this cursor blimp
Extracting truth from the swollen lymph nodes
On a loathing minstrels
Wearing Jesus Christ sneakers
Air JC’s with holes in the insoles
Holes in the insoles!
As we speak there’s a nigga
Doing kapha wear Angola
With a cool grin besides a can of soda
Meeting all demands and quotas
From a studio audience
As of right now I know that
I’m one of god’s fresh bookers
On a job hunt to win the
Hand of a soft fresh hooker
And seek happiness in processed sugars
The word of the day is
I suppress anger then appear on
Stage and dress for strangers
Flashing my naked drum from my trench coat
Burn shit out of my native tongue
Drenched and soaked in cow blood
Hecklers snicker and joke with
Their pals and buds
Well, make yourself known
All you’ll see is dead smoke
Then hear a loud thud your style sucks
Yeah sure this style’s crud
But at least I know how to love
At least I know that in aiding my
Melancholy rhyming’s just a mild jug
A pain reliever, a brain teaser
A fake hint to a brand new scheme
This whole time you’ve been listening
To an answering machine
At the sound of the beep you won’t
Know whether to laugh or scream
But, you’ll know that you’re afraid of
The deep end of the pool
And nigga I skinny dip then put it on
MiniDisc and there’s no cancer in the stream
Yes, but the word of the day is happy
I'm so happy right now
I'm so happy to be recording this song
And you’re very happy and this is
The end of the song
Yes we are approaching the near end
And don’t you even fear of your rear end for
It will not be saved in the afterlife
Be very happy, the word of the day is happy
The word of the day is rejoice
The word of the day is 99 cents off
Any afterlife purchase made after this point
The word of the day is, the word
Of the day is is, uh, melancholy
The word of the day is Al Gore
The word of the day is style galore
The word of the day is you