Gauze Testo

Some of you know me already
Those of you who don't, you're in for a great big fucking surprise
For those of you who do can expect an infinitely more horrible time than they care to remember

I drag in the cat that drag in the conversation piece
Yahweh-forsaken elite, hemlock in the pot every day of the week, I'm a lot
Reach in, even the odds or evolve into mystery meat for the broth, who's еatin'?
Scream for his mom all evening, moxiе a seasonal fog
Palmful of grease, skied through "Keep Out" signage
Weed in his sock, beacon of snot Knee-deep evil to plot through a fever, maid threw his Rod of Asclepius out
Spring and bell exploding through my Polartec
Got a soul and vessel, don't coalesce
Got a nosy compulsion to overstep
I write 8-bit maps for the so depressed
From the croc in the moat to the gold in the chest
Notice I don't program any actual way to progress
To convey an effect
Hot Vinyasa to bated breath
That fray, that plague, that bayonet
That hate, that face of death
That all-in together, I'm afraid that train has left
I ain't wade through bullshit or baby step
Pop off into flesh, no beta test
I bump Raising Hell, I make raisin bread
Raised on wolf's milk and Eraserhead
I'm all good
Quietly hacking away at a hideous riff on the formula
What is the work if it isn't a ticket to slip into vivid euphoria?
Huh? (You know we're being watched)
(You know we're being watched)

I brought gauze
Two kind of knives
Carrots for the horse
Tie his own flies
If you're coming, bring soap
Something for the cough
A million feet of rope
Maybe more gauze

(One, two three four)
Ayy, grey beard, wayward
Parade wave and vacate the framework
Phased out, trade for blank tapes and bait worms, eek
Ease in the weeds, no safe word, K?
No kayfabe, all true tales from the pay grade
Heavy on malaise and away games
The tiptoe tailed by a trail of craters
I am way too Canis Major, et tus?
Let me guess, you tout the brave few
Then make Jesus take the wheel by day two
I don't really pander or plan to behave
If the police sketches a hand from the grave, unholy
Don't luminol the upholstery
His poor old Nonna would roll on her rosary, I know
I go from a homie to bogey and ghost
I'm sorry if you know me as both
I still float hearts from the haystack
I give free hugs in a plague mask
I don't trust none of y'all's love to be more than a cheap toy gun with a bang flag
Ayy, sultan of simple fare
No lie, roll by, we can lick the air
It's an appeasement gesture, not a rib tip rare
But the bistro don't split silver hairs
I made peace with a lot, but a lot of it sits
Still, genuine props on the bottomless pit
Backseat drive with a lazy drawl
I don't aim to please, I don't aim at all, I'm okay
Actively seeking to underdevelop his sentimentality
Why am I here if it isn't effectively cutting the hellions out of me, huh?
(You know we're being watched)
(You know we're being watched)

I brought gauze
Half a dozen flares
Couple clean jars
Strike anywheres
If you're coming, bring fuel
Map of the stars
Any canned food
Maybe more gauze

See? I got a rope
A camping knife with an itsy-bitsy fork and spoon
And a place to hang my canteen