Lyrics:
Store lot smoke pot No thought that I could be makin records Rail thin stickpin Can't win so I eat up all the mushrooms I'm not just a robot Inured
ostracized, Inured, or castaway In a playhouse? Hoops and hairpins. Grow alone, After know your conjurer, A spinster kept checking for a special
Fighting for possession Having control the principle obsession Rivalry and retribution Death the only solution Inured soul lies on the ground Head
Son of the thunderous morning Yahweh: frankincense Satan: gold and murder He is high. inured with vice The tower-cree er on our edelweiss Career
Maybe you're insecure Neck deep in life's manure Maybe your heart's impure Inured to all small compensations Maybe you're born to lose Could be
beasts Swallowed by time left to churn in the earth By a maker who works no clay Moves no minds heals no scars Dissipates in the rays Inured by tainted
d-d-d-dear my listener Welcome to my spoken letter Yee! Yee! Ay Dear my listener I'm in your ear, I'm in gear Become inured to let the engine steer I got
words You, to discomfort, become inured The way is the way is the way is the way is the way These are the questions that we have to read These are
made my own meaning before but there was never an option I've spent my time Taking in good advice I've been inured I've been productive, Never bored
inured to violence we can't tell This is hell Thunder over London Paris full of ash Berlin going under The nuclear double flash Still primed to fight
World embezzler The walker of voids Shed light, summoning mist Creature within Stubbornness won't give insight Clairvoyant redeemer Inured to face
You have a head full of heavy storms Long inured to a world gone mad You think of everyone's a dying breed Staggering figures, overwhelmed by
detour weapons formed against me I'm inured toward barbaric plenty Canary sent me Canary sent me uh This shit Wishy Washi I don't feel you got me Am I
the lake Now, the voices in my head have returned And they're telling me That since to your lies I have become inured It's time. I'm taking my leave Just
white Powder white This nadir of swamp Of hourglass, of data-psalm Inured, endured Incomensurable, lithe-like Redolent and exiled Body in the wall
they're in "Sane's" just a state of mind compromised by gin Don't forget the newer townsfolks not yet inured to The tourists who ask where they can feed
recall Inured he, ever calmly Buried his own body For a brand new start Performing Transforming All his life he's been avoiding The guilt of his heart
I learned recently Some people can't leave things peacefully No vis-a-vis, I won't let you speak to me If every word is inured to the decency That I
Push the rubber Till ego wraps the indent Inured to piercing this thick and craggy skin Push the rubber Till the force provokes a rage Your denial
over me which he tend to emboss Have i ever felt ignored Unappreciated but inured In need of a feedback or a good word Sheeping to shipping working with
And those terrors to which you’re inured The worst of which must surely be the Wolf’s lonely howl At least there’s the watery shimmers The skyline’s pallid
When we're inured to sound, we fend off decay I talk in riddles; that's why you should listen to what I say
are not ready to be unplugged And many of them are so inured So hopelessly dependent on the system that they will fight to protect it We have to go
She is inured to her ache, ransacking for a mandrake Anything to numb this hurt, something to heal this cut But then they ask her why she's smiling
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