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I saw a dead fish on the pavement, and thought "what did you expect" |
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There's no water round here, stupid, should have stayed where it was wet... |
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Hello my name is |
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Pip, and I would like to speak some lyrics, |
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Into this microphone that's amplified so you can hear it. |
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This piece of diction is the intro to ' |
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Distraction |
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Pieces', That's all the shit that flies around my head and keeps me sleepless. |
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Such little food for thought my fucking brain feels anorexic; |
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So many typos when |
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I write, oh, |
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I'll claim |
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I'm dyslexic. |
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I've got your poem here, |
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I've out it in this envelope... |
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I'm setting fire to it; hope you all can read the smoke! |
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Most people where |
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I live don't know me and |
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I fucking like it! |
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Some people where |
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I live don't like me and |
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I fucking know it! |
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Some heads won't know my name or give me a look, since |
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I flow kinda strange like spina bifida footprints. |
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Ha! I flow kinda strange like spina bifida footprints |
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Nothing's original, |
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I stole this flow from the creator, |
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And from some others too, can't think right now |
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I'll name them later. |
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If I say 'fuck' a lot well then |
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I may gain more attention; |
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If I say 'cunt' well then with some of you there will be tension. |
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I find this interesting 'cause in the end they are just words, |
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You give them power when you cower, man, it's so absurd. |
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But all that was covered by |
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Lily Bruce, back in the day. |
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Nothing's original, now |
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I'm repeating what |
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I say! Paralysis through analysis could stop me here |
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But that'd just be an excuse to run in fear! |
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So I'll brandish the blandest man's anguish with a round fist, |
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Directed at the throat of any man to call me spineless. |
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I will brandish the blandest man's anguish with a round fist |
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I see these rappers that say things like 'no homo' and such; |
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It always seems maybe the lady doth protest too much... |
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I'm really speechless but |
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I speak less than you might imagine |
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Sometimes |
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I stutter and |
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I sputter like the words are catching. |
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I'm known to write about the shit most people won't discuss; |
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Some find my music's too intrusive with their words and such. |
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You see a mouse trap ' |
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I see free cheese, and a fucking challenge! |
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But you stay quiet for fear of tipping the balance! |
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When it's horses for courses my horse is distorted |
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I bought it for four quid then forced it through horse shit! |
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We walked through these morbid remorseless discourses, |
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And discussed these disgusting new sources. |
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When it's horses for courses my horse is distorted |
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I've seen the world; |
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I've seen the good and the shitty bits; |
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And all I've got to say is "god damn, y'all are fucking idiots." |
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Some people heard my words and thought it meant they knew me |
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Truth is ' |
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I don't exist; |
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I'm just the soundtrack to your movie! ' |
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Cause I'm a background figure in a story that's all descriptive, |
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And what I feel's just felt for you to hear me fucking spit it! |
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I jump in many different heads, through these words and poems; |
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Always hoping maybe the next leap will be my leap home. |
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Ziggy says that if |
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I keep writing this shit |
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There's an eighty percent chance that |
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Al can make it a pop hit. |
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But Al's an alcoholic and |
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I'm a fucking schizophrenic, |
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So I'll close my eyes on this whole fucking world and that will end it... |
