[Verse 1: Doseone & Andrew Broder]
I suppose, when you wake up
And the dream, it goes dodo
You will find, in your front pocket
One of those stubby golf pencils
[Break: Doseone]
(?) to the local board logo
1-2-3-4
[Verse 2: Andrew Broder, Doseone and both]
Convincing living (Hahaha)
That you, yourself are convinced of living
Till your kidneys can’t clean the convinced
Out of your true blue blood stream
And are you not now, professionally hoodwinked
An easy street penis throbbing down breezy streets
In a b-line like, easy like, bees like, brokedown icecream truck’s leaks
In a b-line like, easy like, bees like, brokedown icecream truck’s leaks (Convincing)
And are you not now, professionally hoodwinked
An easy street penis throbbing down breezy streets
In a b-line like, easy like, bees like, brokedown icecream truck’s leaks
In a b-line like, easy like, bees like, brokedown icecream truck’s leaks (Convincing)
[Bridge: Andrew Broder & Doseone]
You see, however so slightly permanent
These have been things sung that will never be songs
You see, however so slightly permanent (Ah, ah, ah, ah)
These have been things sung that will never be songs (Ah, ah, ah, ah)
You see, however so slightly permanent (Ah, ah, ah, ah)
These have been things sung that will never be songs (Ah, ah, ah, ah)
You see, however so slightly permanent (Ah, ah, ah, ah)
These have been things sung that will never be songs (Ah, ah, ah, ah)
*Non-lyrical bridge with Andrew Broder and Doseone harmonizing and an instrumental session*
[Chorus: Andrew Broder]
Oh, I suppose
Not swan song meat, nor bit nails spit
With strips of skin from chickens' lips
Not wet concrete, no stealing sleep
When the water is sheets and bleeding sheep
Hung horrible hymns to a durable beat, and re-recordable grief
Oh, I suppose
Not swan song meat, nor bit nails spit
With strips of skin from chickens' lips
Not wet concrete, no stolen sleep
When the water is sheets and bleeding sheep
Hung horrible hymns to a durable beat, and re-recordable grief
Oh, I suppose
Not swan song meat, nor bit nails spit
With strips of skin from chickens' lips
Not wet concrete, no stolen sleep
When the water is sheets and bleeding sheep
Hung horrible hymns to a durable beat, and re-recordable grief
Oh, I suppose