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I stood before the glittery borders of new radius |
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In search of the fabled city of mud and crushed velvet, |
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What i found was a gutter where the love of entertainment |
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Meets the lust for blood and demerits, |
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Cutters of the pie throw your summers in the sky, |
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Collar pop jolly roger, die mother****er die, |
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Apache on the ship shape and bristol fashion |
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Snuck a jammy through the red tape and tip toe past him. |
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Worm teeth grinding feverishly below, |
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As little organic hacksaws eager to feed and grow, |
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So when it's blackhawk over the glass walk, |
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They surface up through the cash crops |
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With clippers for your belly-up mascots, |
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And never dine alone, |
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Meanwhile back at sea level it was home by home zone for zone, |
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Bloom county's homeless riot for home ownership, |
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I hope you put gas in the motor-home and know the roads, |
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I studied with the finest combs stuck under my thumb |
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As opposed to the loaded nose who pray armageddon is numb |
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And that's unevenly rendered to those who grew up thinking faith |
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Was the surrender of reason but not a reason to surrender. |
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Catch the liberty fires catalog, 40 torched orchids and citronella for algernon, |
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Don and vagabond alike repent, |
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This shit should have gone "beta burns babylon, the end". |
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Chorus: And when the radio stars climbed up out of the floors |
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To murder the medium that shot 'em 30 years before |
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They said... (Kill the television) |
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And when the cutters of the pie throw their summers in the sky, |
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No love lost baby the future is so bright... (Kill the television) |
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Nothing says charm like an armored car |
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Taking the clone-farm 'tards to the arms bizarre, |
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We were the homemade marker makers born to pour the marsh ink |
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Into right guard parts and march through the gauntlet of car alarms, |
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No harps, no delusions of losing with something prettier |
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Than ash around the metacarpal still clutching the teddy bears, |
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We can run with scissors through the city fair |
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Or situate the nuzzle with the subtle art of splitting hairs, |
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Double park the shuttle, some will arc the funneled cutty sark |
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Where budding narcs target the gushing heart in the muddy clarks, |
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These are the vices of the p-noid bastards |
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Who will chew whatever tablets blur the axioms fastest, |
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Crews lose lunches by the hundreds, |
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Lose electricity, lose gas, phone, plumbing, |
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Humming keep your mouth closed, keep your cows cloned, go, |
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I am the pulse of this ****ing town, homes, no. |
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My what a convenient embargo, |
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At least i'll always know which side of the gun |
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I'm supposed to buy the farm from, |
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The too-far-gone kicks still in the box, |
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Fix still in the pill in his sock, |
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Chilling, gill in the slop, |
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And a million watch gideon scribes, |
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But once the arc honor pussy and bribes, |
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The animals will divide |
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And that's a win for the garish who keep charity in the parish |
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While profiting off the lack of a marriage amongst the classes. |
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Chorus: And when the radio stars climbed up out of the floors |
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To murder the medium that shot 'em 30 years before |
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They said... (Kill the television) |
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And when the cutters of the pie throw their summers in the sky, |
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No love lost baby the future is so bright... (Kill the television) |
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The mobile infantry is so postal, |
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Coast into the quotient provoking the local pistol pete, |
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Choking his liberty and justice quotas and cloaking his folk in smithereens, |
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Smokey little pile of bloody pulp and co-dependencies. |
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Dopey no surrender bender in effect, |
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Sole defenders of the longest night new york had never slept, |
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And there were jumping jacks and whistlers over christmas, |
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Like rockets from the crypt spilling the festive morning beverage of your preference, |
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I step in hog heaven, stoney with no weapons, |
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Pissing on |
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TelePrompTers, selling megaphones to hecklers, |
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Who broadcast 80 million versions of the sermon |
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For that one indisputable masterpiece before the curtains, |
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Pale arcadian moon, high definition flat plasma, |
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Imax city-wide transfer, |
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Artificial einstein-rosen out the tenement, |
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Ease into the xanadu, let it hammer the tension out, |
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I'm talking cool, calm, dominant |
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Phenomenal, monitor face to the wall opposite. |
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U.F.O.'s and locusts sing the same old song |
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While the weathermen get retarded as the day is long |
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Chorus: And when the radio stars climbed up out of the floors |
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To murder the medium that shot 'em 30 years before |
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They said... (Kill the television) |
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And when the cutters of the pie throw their summers in the sky, |
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No love lost baby the future is so bright... (Kill the television) |
