Sims, Cecil Otter - Dreamsleep lyrics
[Sims, Cecil Otter - Dreamsleep lyrics]
Break the wiring harness, stop the cameras
Snakes are firing arms and block the answers
Clouded plots blow spots
With robot newscasters
After two masters shoot whispers
Through roof rafters pass it on to the next
Master gone street merchant
Next person to purchase a version
Of these freak’s words
And playtime might make time stand still
Saluting riots and looting
It’s a primetime kill
Take me back to the way it used to be
Usually move my feet, now I stand still
While your will chooses defeat
Chew some pills so you can sleep
Only to wake to 9 to 5 to
Life and can’t escape your fate, right?
Turn on your break lights and turn left wing
Let’s sing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot"
And carry it to the burial
Ground around the corner
Warm your order forms born
From your shorter thorns
Torn from your garden
Choose your corporate credit card
While the senate scars the tenants
Lieutenants mar the menace peasants
While the medic yawns and turns
His head in pillow dreams
20, 00 leagues deep in
American Dream sleep soliloquies
Killing me with free speech
Impediment residents don’t know
A goddamn thing
About the irrelevant tenements
I’m not dancing to the ranting and raving
Paving paths past the mating season
Leaving dreamers breeding in the
Land of the lost you’re dreaming
When the saints go marching in
I’ll market them to demons
Can you pull this cannibalist out
Of the animal’s fist
With a Hannibalistic wit
You’ll fit me in your schedule
Hidden in your incredible edible head
Full of skull snaps
That’s that for the dull raps
And I see you knocking back cheap bourbon
You’re fucking knees hurting and you
Can’t be a complete person
Cause that sheet’s certain to
Make a stereotype
Paper Tiger keeps the stereo tight
I make the burial rights
I was buried alive riding merry-go-rounds
Around the burial grounds
Lounging in the fucking lap of luxury
Like ooh, barracuda
I could swear that you were in the school
Who bears the fruit of their labor
Fuck that pay dirt
Got me reaching for the razor
This one’s for the racist that
Mocks the caged bird
The one that gives my dumb skull
Crumbs for a day’s work
That’s why I write a song about fire bombs
Fuck Viacom
Sing me a song that’s long and meaningful
Pull me into your premise baby make
Me want it bad news
Sad moves, truth is a monsoon
Dressed up in costumes on Fox News
Let me mock you to sleep sleepy headbanger
Got to wait your turn to earn
Your turn through the turnstile
Schemes form four peace wars with taskforce
For more resources for gas whores
You’re dreaming
Snakes are firing arms and block the answers
Clouded plots blow spots
With robot newscasters
After two masters shoot whispers
Through roof rafters pass it on to the next
Master gone street merchant
Next person to purchase a version
Of these freak’s words
And playtime might make time stand still
Saluting riots and looting
It’s a primetime kill
Take me back to the way it used to be
Usually move my feet, now I stand still
While your will chooses defeat
Chew some pills so you can sleep
Only to wake to 9 to 5 to
Life and can’t escape your fate, right?
Turn on your break lights and turn left wing
Let’s sing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot"
And carry it to the burial
Ground around the corner
Warm your order forms born
From your shorter thorns
Torn from your garden
Choose your corporate credit card
While the senate scars the tenants
Lieutenants mar the menace peasants
While the medic yawns and turns
His head in pillow dreams
20, 00 leagues deep in
American Dream sleep soliloquies
Killing me with free speech
Impediment residents don’t know
A goddamn thing
About the irrelevant tenements
I’m not dancing to the ranting and raving
Paving paths past the mating season
Leaving dreamers breeding in the
Land of the lost you’re dreaming
When the saints go marching in
I’ll market them to demons
Can you pull this cannibalist out
Of the animal’s fist
With a Hannibalistic wit
You’ll fit me in your schedule
Hidden in your incredible edible head
Full of skull snaps
That’s that for the dull raps
And I see you knocking back cheap bourbon
You’re fucking knees hurting and you
Can’t be a complete person
Cause that sheet’s certain to
Make a stereotype
Paper Tiger keeps the stereo tight
I make the burial rights
I was buried alive riding merry-go-rounds
Around the burial grounds
Lounging in the fucking lap of luxury
Like ooh, barracuda
I could swear that you were in the school
Who bears the fruit of their labor
Fuck that pay dirt
Got me reaching for the razor
This one’s for the racist that
Mocks the caged bird
The one that gives my dumb skull
Crumbs for a day’s work
That’s why I write a song about fire bombs
Fuck Viacom
Sing me a song that’s long and meaningful
Pull me into your premise baby make
Me want it bad news
Sad moves, truth is a monsoon
Dressed up in costumes on Fox News
Let me mock you to sleep sleepy headbanger
Got to wait your turn to earn
Your turn through the turnstile
Schemes form four peace wars with taskforce
For more resources for gas whores
You’re dreaming