|
[Pip:] When it's cold, we bite the top of our zips, |
|
Pull it up with our teeth till it covers our lips |
|
Then exhale central heating for the weather beaten |
|
No feet are beating, this street in to stand by us like |
|
Will Wheaton |
|
Walking these streets with that distant stare |
|
No one likes us but we don't care |
|
Maybe our kind don't fit round here |
|
Our minds find conflict round here |
|
See we choose to cruise a route that ain't paved with gold |
|
So our shoes don't slip they stick and grip this road |
|
Our tools are ink slicks that we engrave and mould |
|
For an end goal you maybe can't spend or fold |
|
We won't settle for unsought careers |
|
Or forty years of salty tears |
|
Like a battered up mix-tape with a long faded label |
|
When I'm old and decaying |
|
I'll be decaying and able [Hook:] |
|
If the bad times are coming, let 'em come |
|
Let the death drum break the slump |
|
Before the once young braves succumb |
|
The Fickle flicker of desire expires |
|
If the bad times are coming |
|
Let 'em come, |
|
Let 'em come [P.O.S:] |
|
Bad times coming |
|
Bash up a castle |
|
I know the zoo keeper |
|
Line em up |
|
Lions on em |
|
I haven't slept yet |
|
Ever, crust |
|
Kickin up dust |
|
Leave em sickin up rust colour |
|
Let it come |
|
Let em run |
|
Let me laugh at it |
|
Smash like it's rampage |
|
Live it up |
|
Grasp at it |
|
No pill for the whirlwind coming |
|
Let it come |
|
Spin with the rush no fun till the times up |
|
Run against the flood |
|
All stroke no float |
|
For the hope for the coast pump blood |
|
Stump fuckers on the daily |
|
Dump lungs |
|
Volume is up |
|
Watch em hush for the lump sum |
|
But not around here |
|
Around here we steer clear |
|
Of holding our tongues to stack funds |
|
When bad times come it's like some old news |
|
New shit Choose yours |
|
New whip or brick? |
|
Thank you [Hook:] |
|
If the bad times are coming, let 'em come |
|
Let the death drum break the slump |
|
Before the once young braves succumb |
|
The Fickle flicker of desire expires |
|
If the bad times are coming |
|
Let 'em come, |
|
Let 'em come [Sage:] |
|
Quality home life, |
|
Living a lie now |
|
Take it to the road certain women would lie down |
|
Haunting images |
|
I witnessed in my town |
|
Are floating through the night with a knife and a white gown |
|
Gotta dig a bigger hole |
|
But I can never climb out, just burrow and burrow |
|
Or stand on the high ground while pulling the sky down |
|
Wait for the high tide and try not to drown |
|
You're waiting another day with eyebrows furrowed |
|
Just say what you gotta say... like right now, fucko |
|
Or pipe down bucko, |
|
I'm doubting what many say "Why do you think they call it a burrowing owl anyway?" |
|
Feed the lion despite what the sign says |
|
Act defiant and impolite to my friends |
|
While making side bets in a risky gamble |
|
Save the wild sex for the filthy animals |
|
I switch the channel if the nature turns mechanical |
|
Become detached like your snake mandibles |
|
The slack jawed yokel is practising his cat calls |
|
It's got the lab rats bounding off the padded walls [Hook:] |
|
If the bad times are coming, let 'em come |
|
Let the death drum break the slump |
|
Before the once young braves succumb |
|
The Fickle flicker of desire expires |
|
If the bad times are coming |
|
Let 'em come, |
|
Let 'em come |