Rob Sonic, Aesop Rock - Killjoy lyrics

K-IL-L-J-O-Y k-IL-L-J-O-Y

Give me that, ahhhh
Give me that Turtle Neck shirt
A Tin Pan Apple, a German Shepherd
A wristband stand, and a lurching Red Bird
And more Braves than the Turner network
Alive with a smile and a crazy cadence that
Flips out if it's face is shaven
And Prince had all the names
And places on the
Tops of the forties by the Casey Kasem
No such luck in the silent scream
Hope we die with the needle
In the eye at least
Like Jimmy Hart and the Iron
Sheik doing the roll bounce
James and the Giant Peach
Whole house like yeah he yells at us
Gets fall down drunk but we help him up
Does this thing where he points
At his pelvic thrust
And he constantly speaks of Beelzebub
Probably needs to adjust the
Voices in his head
But instead he kind of just enjoys when
They get upset and start
Pencil pointing at whoever
Fucking left with the best of Poison
Boys being brought seven days
In the old world I'm told
That the beds are made
Out of headstones, bones and electric tape
Now let the bodies hit the
Floor for the Feng Shui

K-IL-L-J-O-Y k-IL-L-J-O-Y

It’s here, can’t you feel
It? This whole room, everything is in
Color, and I can feel the air, I can see it
I can see all the molecules
How do you feel inside?

Cleverbots bounce out of boiling sea
And foil hats hack toys into Soylent Green
Fat boy back wrapping his heart
In bacon, part jarhead, part avatar of Satan
All bargain basement, some get lost
Some get six claws to crisscross the course
In a town potmarked with
Potholes and pack dogs
Half-wit's rock with the not so Pavlov
Ah break a player into polygons
It ain't fair it's a jobby job
Another pet rock death to the
Shipwreck sweat box, coronary bastard
Last word neck chop
Knock, it was nosy neighbors in the safe
House built with the bones of leaders
There were basic tarp over stolen speakers
Somewhere to weed out toking weasels
Raised by Lycos, maybe an agent of darkness
Still make art out of garbage
Sleep in the arms of a hearty cartharsis
Sergeant of marginal progress
March on cobwebs
No headed poker face appear more
Like he broke a vase
I'm okay no qualms, wait some qualms
Too many paper mache front lawns