pulling the pin

Josh HommeJosh Homme 

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Josh Homme

Joshua Michael Homme III ( /ˈhɒ.mi/ HO-mee, see below; born May 17, 1973) is an American rock musician, and record producer. He was the guitarist and a former member of the stoner rock band Kyuss, as well as the founding and only continuous member of the hard rock band Queens of the Stone Age, in which he sings, plays guitar, and serves as the band's primary songwriter. He co-founded and occasionally performs with Eagles of Death Metal as its guitarist and lead singer, whilst playing drums for studio recordings, and continues to produce and release a musical improv series with other musicians, mostly from the Palm Desert Scene, known as The Desert Sessions. In 2009, he appeared in a new project called Them Crooked Vultures with Dave Grohl and John Paul Jones.… more »

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Yeah
Yeah, that cash
Yeah, take it, here

From a long line of the rancidest swine came the violators
The cloven foot designers of high crime for the iron ages
Twisting down through time, see them tryna unwind creation
Don't be surprised, it's a mistake to think their influence had faded
Well, what a wretched state of danger we've made here
I thought to me, "Perhaps explaining years of self lobotomy, toxicly
Perhaps explaining tears and even tears in my cosmology"
You numb yourself for years and it can wear upon you, honestly
These old foxes got a lotta plots to out fox us (ay)
Tryna divvy up and dump in corresponding boxes, how obnoxious
Where the heart and mind connect, expect them targeting like archers
You will not travel towards the light if they're in charge of your departure
You'd think the universe forgot us the way the cursed pitch their product (woo)
As though our spirits not a fire that can't be snuffed or turned to dollars
Or the expanse across all space, can't be contained in one small dollop
Now I see that its the same moment in history back to haunt us
And here we are again
Hello void, long time watcher, first time callin' in
Every cage built needs an occupant
Got a dead bolt, see 'em lock it in
Had a good run but they stoppin' it
Wanna Walkman in the coffin lid
Eat your heart out, fiction fan
Truly the truth's the stranger document

And at best I'm just getting it wrong
And at worst I've been right from the start
It hurts, I'm bein' torn apart
There's a grenade in my heart
And the pin is in their palm
There's a grenade
There's a grenade
A grenade

At best I feel difficult, poor and you pitiful
Then everyday's like a satanic ritual
Beautiful soul with the rogue and the criminal
How long must the Holy hold onto they principles?
Kickin' and screamin' while watchin' the demons
Collecting the gold and the diamond residuals
My pastor say
"God has promised us paradise, live a good life it is pivotal"
I promised my mama that I would stay honest
But I want it all in the physical
And promise I'm honest, I'll probably be punished
'Cause keeping that promise too difficult
So picture me red as I sit on the bed
With my hands on my head and this pistol too
Why the f*ck must I be miserable?
The devils, they do the despicable
And still, they move like they invincible
These filthy criminals, sit at the pinnacle
Doin' the typical, keepin' us miserable
Takin' the most and providin' the minimal
Hate to sound cynical but shit is pitiful, times is just critical
Like Jimmy Savile, they cheerfully kill kids in a ritual
I'll murder the miserables, I'll make it all biblical
I'll cut off their heads
They'll beg for their lives and I'll put it up, digital
F*ck the political, the mission is spiritual
Our murder is miracle, that was sent here to just punish through terror

Static in my mind
Like sanity on borrowed time
Like right and wrong can't be defined
There's a blade in my heart
And the pin is in their palm
There's a grenade
There's a grenade
A grenade in my heart

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