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Correct Handfuls Of Sky Lyrics
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Artists: B
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Busdriver
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Correct Handfuls Of Sky
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Lyrics:
The water retention in the bogged down pickled ear Outweighs the REM in one-eyed pistoleers Oscillating lung sacs, cheek-pinching fun facts Coloring the grosses in the fiscal year I've never been a shoe-in just the gluten in the monkey bread Sucked up in the union turn my dues in with the monthly pledge Breaking the Rosetta Stone, shouting on the megaphone I turn a burning bush into a monkey hedge They're looking for a minion of idle hands to instruct And I'm the battery-powered deflowered nimbus Set aside my prized glum in gentrified fiefdom I street perform in peak form with a tin cup Please lift the sanctions that demonize the yellow cake On your tongue the water-gun is pointed at your elbow brace Baby safe the bumper cars, broadcast the color bars As I tie you to the railroad stakes When I overrule all of the nutritional facts I can scale walls Get your shit flushed when I bit-crush the Britannica And unveil drawls When I overrule all of the nutritional facts I can scale walls Get your shit flushed when I bit-crush the Britannica And unveil drawls They wanted a Moulin Rouge and some bullion cubes But we jettisoned all that by the megaton Now they've got their Oolong brews and their futon stools And a reticent sun So I'm turning on the waterworks Cutting through the modern murk Knee-deep in a pot of dirt To render handfuls of sky Turning on the water works Shunned where founding fathers lurk Knee-deep in a pot of dirt To render handfuls of sky Cowering in firefights Stepping over fly-by-nights Contrary to prior plights I render handfuls of sky The mounting momentum of the bubbling electorate Favors neo-Nazism in the house pet chorus Throw the medicine ball, divvy up the windfall Fit the trophy wife for the wet corset I go from a hug to an open-handed cartwheel That's how I vivisect the dinner guest at the arms deal Breathing with a suck slurp, I scrutinize the bloodwork Of the green thinkers and no cars yield Pointing out all the freckles on the darkroom negs To carbon date a marketplace full of bootlegs Bottle zygote nog, for all the roadhogs Matching in, white, blue, red You cannot triangulate the angles of this paragon You are not a G at all, you work at a hair salon When you raise the hot comb, I will move to Stockholm Till the soil to put a parish on When I do away with questionable motherfuckers I can outsource sorcery They wanted a Moulin Rouge and some bullion cubes But we jettisoned all that by the megaton Now they've got their Oolong brews and their MoveOn dot orgs (Hey, go!) x3 So I'm turning on the waterworks Cutting through the modern murk Knee-deep in a pot of dirt To render handfuls of sky Turning on the water works Shunned where founding fathers lurk Knee-deep in a pot of dirt To render handfuls of sky Cowering in firefights Stepping over fly-by-nights Contrary to prior plights I render handfuls of sky
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