like a rook

music as metaphor / style whore / delicate misuse misspelling and poorly punctuated words galore/ i try to be funny so as not to bore /mais, hot damn is it a chore!
this window seat is loud in the city wherethe weather is howlingoutside there’s wolves on prowl, in thebelly growlingme I’m just over the line, under the gun,out of my mindeverything in its right placewatch me slice through the nightrace time and space alikeit’s mine to shape it, right?let’s get it goingless emotion more emulsionburn it downlet’s get it goingless emotion more emulsionburn it downlet’s get it goingless emotion more emulsionburn it blackdown to the ash, start from the scratchbuild it all backlet me get you up to speedit’s up to us to up the needupheaval tucked up the sleeveit’s a sudden thrill that the hunter feelswhen they’re on their heelsand the hunted yieldsyou run on fumes, you grind the wheelsthe tunnel’s sealed but you’ll never kneelno making dealsbut the wolves have eyesand they smell the vealand what’s revealed is each one out for mealsand don’t care which one’s skin they peel backso I keep the blade sharp for realbecause you never know when it comes on back
what will you call your home, what will you call your own?where will you lay them bones?the bell just tolledthis is heaven, this is homethis is heaven, this is hellthis is home, this is hellthis is heaven, this is homewelcome to the veldt

this window seat is loud in the city where
the weather is howling
outside there’s wolves on prowl, in the
belly growling
me I’m just over the line, under the gun,
out of my mind
everything in its right place
watch me slice through the night
race time and space alike
it’s mine to shape it, right?

let’s get it going
less emotion more emulsion
burn it down
let’s get it going
less emotion more emulsion
burn it down
let’s get it going
less emotion more emulsion
burn it black
down to the ash, start from the scratch
build it all back

let me get you up to speed
it’s up to us to up the need
upheaval tucked up the sleeve
it’s a sudden thrill that the hunter feels
when they’re on their heels
and the hunted yields
you run on fumes, you grind the wheels
the tunnel’s sealed but you’ll never kneel
no making deals
but the wolves have eyes
and they smell the veal
and what’s revealed is each one out for meals
and don’t care which one’s skin they peel back
so I keep the blade sharp for real
because you never know when it comes on back

what will you call your home, what will you call your own?
where will you lay them bones?
the bell just tolled
this is heaven, this is home
this is heaven, this is hell
this is home, this is hell
this is heaven, this is home
welcome to the veldt


  1. likearook posted this
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