What’s he up to? he says not a lot
But the lights are on upstairs even if he says they’re not
Don’t mistake the camera flashing for a twinkle in his eye
Why do people gather round just to listen to him sigh? oh my
Rose from river sticks bone dry
Broke through the barrier, consumed the whole sky
And when it’s time then it’s time, don’t cry
Cos there’s always an edge close by
The algorithms off beat, why you showing me this?
Ylem, it feels like, nothing is prone to exist
Silent protests, rile em up
Try to open old wounds but hope the files corrupt
Instincts whistle and hiss
An acute awareness seemed to usurp his ignorant bliss
Dwindling wits, gawping at his former shell
Just because it suited him doesn’t mean he wore it well
Maybe he was bored of hell?
Of and as are interchangeable
The punch bowls half empty but the ladle’s full
Conversations lull, i lit the fire then i hid inside the brazen bull
Vacate your skull! there’s a lot more to see outside
Chop, chop, off you go, head first down tree house slide
To freak out chic style, do your thing kid
Rejoice as the court jester splits the brutal kings wig
What’s he up to? he says not a lot
But the lights are on upstairs even if he says they’re not
Don’t mistake the camera flashing for a twinkle in his eye
Why do people gather round just to listen to him sigh? oh my
Rose from river sticks bone dry
Broke through the barrier, consumed the whole sky
And when it’s time then it’s time, don’t cry
Cos there’s always an edge close by
Counting stacks with an ominous villainous laugh
If me doughs low it’s an anomalous dip in the graph
Keep it moving don’t trip on the math
There’s a wealth of knowledge to attain on a difficult path
Scenic over easy even when me brain’s fried
Flame-eyed, i relish and cherish every pained stride
The paint dried with no witnesses
I’m busy poetically professing my own ignorance
The filth in the cracks so beautifully articulated
Eye candy will become inundated with bitter hatred
A spoonful of aspartame hurling down their throat like a crashing plane
But the flavours still as tainted
I still serve em on a platter with a glass of beer
While ten a penny patrons stand and cheer
And tasteless tastemakers with unrefined palates
Parrot faux satisfactory onomatopoeia
What’s he up to? he says not a lot
But the lights are on upstairs even if he says they’re not
Don’t mistake the camera flashing for a twinkle in his eye
Why do people gather round just to listen to him sigh?
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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