lyrics
(You ever look into the mirror and you don't recognize what you see?
It's not you, it's not me, it's not anybody.
Recognize it's time, 'cause it's...)
First verse and my face is turning Maud.
Third-person: I'm the Candace in the squad,
'cause I'm floatin' low over-the-shoulder, a ghost,
fear of the mirror, and the me and what I see in him the most: Jupiter Montage.
Star-struck bomb squad seein' conceit Star-light my Fifis -- they're all flawed.
Face now all Maud, these sediments are reticent, they're not sod.
Enfetterments not betterments - they got laws.
Seein' city scenes in sequence on the eyes,
sober guy or Cobra Kai? Which type of dissapated? I hate it when the
Facial features won't make the sequence complete:
Bein' dead or lonely,
Hikiko-memento-mori, I mean:
My mean mien is a mean mien, a mean mug,
or I seen somethin': a genius, when the Sunset sees a Sun-burst til the sun hurts in a sudden curse to need reimbursement -- a mean hug is a debug from the indoors. I've been lost.
At least I can see
who this guy is.
The one I'll be
when I float back in.
When it comes back, got summoning sickness,
like livin' actual life was a kind of addiction,
a business of willed-this-won't-this, until I,
eyes wide, realize I've got a present witness:
It's a Party of One with advice in lump sum,
From a third-party I can allegedly trust:
Me. Another me yote Occam's Razer in the lavatory, it karmic 'cause that ish is comin' back to me:
Honest man. Hype-man nitpicker, Hegel's delight.
Some advice in the night:
"Buddy-boy, your ear might hear what you like:
Got that style, got that might.
Got that guile, got that fight.
Got that 1-2-3, step-by-step advantage.
Got that PhD: Permanent Head Damage."
Got critiques, my own Gourmand, Zesty.
Worker bee cookin' up the goofy way like Huggbee.
I realize I'm me, makin' songs in two days for the Tw3.
(That's Tw3lv3 with the 3s.
The Tw3. The Tw3!
Hey, you asked for it, you asked for this!
Okay, I'm back. I'm me. Goodbye.)
credits
license
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