Aesop Rock - Dead Pan Lyrics
This be the dawning of the age of dead waterStitchin every b-boy fragmentSomebody live enough to bust through the belly with a fist upThis is a right now generation murdered by the fan baseThis is adored by the writers-Dead waterWith a still force activatedNo I'm not feelin alrightFormed by the village of badness and bad karmaPunched by the stagnant water gate threw the fickle backBut by the window's still three nickels in a piggy bankCaught her with her head up funny stomach from the hunger painsFlashed automatic b-boy with big visionsIn a matchbox apartment adjacent a crooked starshipWho better nation a million's the only remedyNine dizzy planets with a bullet riding centerpieceTake Me Through The GatesI'm bout as sick of burning find the hottest slacker in a visionary costumeCon artist kamikaze conductWarm for a second to the minute he whored herself to disasterI recognize the cankers by the mechanical staggerAs opposed to the skip of big brother bad slapperTheologies who need to keep the cookies caffeinatedlike a mad hatter that'll sleep now, ask afterCalibrate the happy scale when he's soakinwet with a mouthful of dead ideas and see if it tipped zeroStripped ego, tall stories of broad gloryI'll be god while you're still living life on a full 40Or maybe I'll be gramacin, homes poor, broke and lonelyHidden by my billygoat beard and cardboard monstrosityI drink a bad glass of gumptionNot bad meaning bad, but bad meaning disgustingWildchild activater activate sludge enough to dungeon for a accolade and wild onesI committed wild murder, went through the citywith a wild merger, woke up in a wildstyle burnerSpace case, boom box, hate tapes, no lemonade breaks (sweat), no cheddar in labor daysRight now, im here to break a point of big system plus my screenI was never cursed in a russmeyer bixonSpit sob stories to confront my dick addictionsOf the dirty basement at the graves of Salem witchesDriving my stake through the face of painstaking business (checkmate)But I scream Misery (better breath take)Out of sleep, lifted up lobotomy, little Jackie paperand a magic dragon sack of dirty shrubberyI'll be the ugliest version of paranoiakingpin set in motion by the secondhand pressureSome get excited when the sun folds underSome get excited when the summer hits the pavementSome get excited when the bullet hits bone and a boardI'll escape through the train yard and sleep till it's broken[same old]This be the settling of debt of warm waterA mobile b-boy functionSomebody mad enough to cut apart the curtain with a fist upThis is the dagger in the 88 magnificent memorialThis is the heater to a movement-dead waterWhen I broke fifth and got sparksNo I'm not feelin alrightThis be the windshear dodgin dead waterSolitary b-boy wonderSomebody fresh enough to reinvent the court with a fist upThis is the funky outline around a classic breakbeatThis is an agitated moment-dead waterWith a burnt future, beaten, uglyNo I'm not feelin' alright
