Nick Zazove - Revenge Too Warm (DC Version)

Nothing great, nothing fake, nothing aimless
Your fate tucked deep into my crushed thorax
Plucked like a fiddle, rusted and famous
Y'all pinch a golden coat chipped to Rorschach
Vulture-ticks Eschered thin; time is restless
Pace the suede rug for praise from my legend
Stencil my dreams with action-less peeving your
Feet prance my liver. Baste my Anima
Back before industry pirated Jesus
Back before Musk, before shuttered-blind season
I had a future - gold reputation
Teachers who knew that I'd stand tall, embrace it
Sooner to fame, than recluse back to Mason
Temper my spoils. Act like a craven, or
Narcissus layman. Using persuasive
Charm to evade their tall expectations
Riding those coattails. Lawyer's son silver
Tongue plugging pockmarks - Freudian painting
I'd build a statue the world would adapt to a
Rebel in Youth, Hand-Luked into dragon
Scribe to the moon the effigy's jazz-blues
Mime a Laurette, Slam scales over bad news
Bankrupt this Trust-Funded Kid retroactive
Fail the world twice before he impacts it
Gorge all his praise and never surpass it
All things decay - let epochs collapse the
Flakes of a slacker into his axis
Here raps the fist of Punks into practice

Water beats fire, fire beats frozen
Here feasts the tired back to a quotient
Bellied-up Beatle, Lennon-turned still
Here Comes the Sun scaled with June Paik stilts

Tip of an iceberg punctures his vain, the
Cold-blooded Kid screams hymns through decays. Your
Ragdoll-kissed skid marked-memory lane draws
Rebels tomorrow to call to the rain
Thought my degree would be something to praise to
Anchor my bedded honor to Saints
Why am I helpless? Who feels my pain?
Why is my opus rusted in chains?
Why kill the Kid that loved me in concept?
One who built dreams from character content?
Turning the page from the bastard I felt like
Rebel gets high and blinds out the daylight
Blinds out the world, rests furled in dad's struggle
Trickling my spoils down to our chuckles
Crooning him still with an oath of starvation
Artists are pure where the art is vacation
Fantasy baked in the Ant Mill relation
Boy meets the world, let the white light embrace him
Boy meets his icon, old road paved with new fables, the
Frail, quiet hands reaching up from the Hades
Quiet my charms, as the past ricochets in my
Brain, in my navel gazes, in its changes
Here lies my grave, stone-slain grown to action
Conjures these ghosts to turn my page - traction
Father relaxed. Menacing eyes
The hydra embraced me. Gold doesn't age, it don't
Fill me with daisies- won't freeform adapt to the
Skills of the pagan-or pilloried kings when they're
Sniffing the pavement-Your feet plant the privilege
Sweep me to Graceland and lose me to fame before
Dreams flood complacence over my head. I be
Levied I was special, yet time's but an echo
My "rebel" is mine. Divine was the fellow who
Kneaded his shrine a naive complexion

Fire beats water when icing your dollar
Kiss the wheel breaking scales on my collar
Back to your honor. Ring me again
Live for the moments you dream past my end

Statue of Hydra, statue of gold
Molded with crisis ringing its pulse, it
Haunts me to action. Haunts me to fold, its
Legacy basks, yet stillness is bold

Written by:
Nicholas Zazove

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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