Teksty piosenek > A > Aesop Rock > Take Me To The Basement
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Aesop Rock - Take Me To The Basement

Take Me To The Basement

Take Me To The Basement

Tekst dodał(a): Cysiek444 Edytuj tekst
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Tekst piosenki:

Take me to the basement.

Let me count the holes in your foundation.

Ancient ridicule system alert, kissing my lurk

The perch of rare grimace on iron mask.

I remember science class,

If chemistry could silence the lions laugh I'd be fine.

(I fail ta') meddlein' up,

Adrenaline trades the leaves that walk the plank

Before the crimson struck a match this season.

Meridian carpal will jolt your logic

When the burn earned its self normalcy for 20 plus.

Run amok or sink; swims not an option.

She applied the lipstick slow.

Slow enough for me to bask in,

Fast enough for me to wish it lasted

Past my alarms cackling.

The front line of its mystique's geek

Doubled my proposals, bargains

For the ogres who prefer the roller coasters

(I prefer the roller coasters)

Well that'll sip the blood of merry men,

That'll grace holiday carols when the merry ends.

Barrel past the auto craft, exhale into vinyl raft

And pirate your local rain puddle torturous,

Try to shake pilot fish off your dorsal fin.

Lets dive through the archives, Xanax on frantic planet,

Stamp it with a notable brand to reap the profit.

See I don't know hell but I've read about it often.

Sounds like a dope concept gone wrong

(note to caution)



Take me to the basement.

Lets zoom into that war pig sensation.

Take me to the basement.

Lets disassemble the cause rotation

Sayin', if you choose to build it you'll die by the tools you build with

So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age.

Take me to the basement.

Lets deny the nervous rooms of pacin'

Take me to the basement.

Lets review the hearts ramification.

Sayin, if you choose to build or you'll die by the tools you build with,

So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age.



Take me to the basement.

Lets remove the costume you escaped in.

Hold up your legacies, I'll tell you which ones my favorite.

Hold up your alaciritive innocence,

I'll teach you about the perks of patience in seminar format. (What?)

I've worn that hat for seven years,

That's why its discolored, ragged and shitty.

I ain't about to toss it when its been through all these dream wars with me.

I'm an undercover prophet, thrift shop garb,

I'd rather starve then sit inside this gridlock until it parts.

This tailor made rutiny ain't suitin' me,

It's tight around my neck like 13 loops, rafter, an apple box.

Heartless harvest of mine, I'm tired of pissin' benediction.

Maybe it ain't healthy, but sometimes I rather burn then let you help me.

It's getting brisk, brisk as fuck.

My skin ain't thick enough, these icicles ain't civil.

How many freezer burn victims can one society on tilt manufacture

Prior to hire, being intervening just to release last laughter.

And every tree trunks made of third rails with tourniquet branches.

And I learned to walk with an anchor in my back pocket.

And man I read palms during even the most brief handshakes.

And man I ain't alive to pull the weeds around the spotlit.

Well I'm wallowin, followin my little lost princess to the promise land,

Hollerin' my potent slogan, hell, if Nostradamus can.

Conquering these open roads with throttle pin to floor,

'Cause I'ma win right after I finish these chores.



Take me to the basement.

Lets zoom into that war pig sensation.

Take me to the basement.

Lets disassemble the cause rotation

Sayin', if you choose to build it you'll die by the tools you build with

So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age.

Take me to the basement.

Lets deny the nervous rooms of pacin'

Take me to the basement.

Lets review the hearts ramifications.

I'm sayin, if you choose to build or you'll die by the tools you build with,

So make some noise for all your predecessors reppin' sturdy grill-age.



Take me to the basement...



"I think the greatest hand on the human race has been done by the poets."

"Well, poets are dull boys, most of them, but not a lot are especially fiendish."

"The keep filling people's heads with delusions about...love."

 

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