Calls for six, ante up ‘meridiem', the alibi
The empyrean's obsidian... "put your little hand in mine.”
Clad disguise, hanging in a closet aptly, grand design
Flannel tie strangling ritual fabric sacrifice
Am I alive, abiding in a quiet desperation?
Indoctrinated, propagate in mental vegetation
Select a checked vocation, intent and destination,
Perpetuate regret in collective debt inflation
Neglecting aspiration, investment of a craven
Anxious of the chase beyond, paper and the bracelet’s
Its probably dramatic if its cataloged enslavement
But the patriots control the doh and the flow of information
Slowly dissipating in the colon of the nation
Labour through nativity for coals up to cremation
Lonely is the day, busy living, croaky flavour
Busy dying slow, prison missing Rita Hayworth


B
Hook, line, tethered: your business, is it pleasure?
Every second measured, Croc, ticking for that treasure
Fly boy’s lost, Tink. Forget her. Never mind it
Siphon all the milage I can drive from pleasure island


V1
Amidst the principle's yammer I dangled a string Inwards
Assembly, abacas calendar's each finger
A junior infant had a glimpse of battling a system
Slipped a Mickey, citizens will carry on tradition
Going it alone, a mysticism, prone to knocking knees
Holy disbelief watching ghost's operate machine's
Monopoly encroached, nobody goes till we esteem
Your worth in currency, row, this is but a dream
The ticking reigns supreme, quickly, places to be seen
Committing to a strictly, fixed, laborious routine
Watch the count, interlock this cog unto our scheme
Always greener, puzzle piece's, gaze into the screen
Beta A- Z, undertaken towards mortician
Alpha plays the game, omega lament's decision
In mint only give a shit, limited this edition
Shit I actually have to go get after ambition

V3

On the pot, not the shit, that's holding up the real estate
No attack, a quantum leap from change, so you feel decay
The zeal delay’s, Carpe Diem leisure spiel's steal the day
Grandeur isn’t happening, ‘Cest la vie’, deal again /
Procrastinator, all talk, that lack's the affidavit
Nothing backed up, but the crash of actuation
Passion displayed just an asshole fashion statement
Fabricated tat too afraid to stand up naked
Daunt, doubt dawn's when your putting in the hours
Haunts this house, till your pushing up the flowers
Now or never, ’burn the ship’, fragrance of the vagrant
Survival only likely on this island, if you take it
Bump for double digits, every punch summoned's legit
Yeah, been at it for a minute, shit its practically religion
Soliciting listen's, turned whispering to crickets
The only thing thats lit I’ll admit is his fucking vigil,