Ish the Stomach - Terrible People (Cross Communication)

I don't care enough, pull out the hair shut the door
Get lost, stare at stuff, come up with useless metaphors
Sit in corners, rock myself, back and forth to sleep
Another hopeless sheep, who's counting people
Shut your skull, go to peace
Ignore your eyelids, they're deceitful, carnival of weasels
Needles in the veins of voodoo dolls claiming you don't notice evil
Tell yourself, it's all in your head, cause it's easier to pretend
You're listening to babble falling out the mouths of river beds
Fell asleep in front of glowing screens, the warmth keeps you from noticing
You're floating or you're drowning when you're rowing down that stream
Life is but a dream

Lots of thoughts, of what we got and where we've been
And where'd we go, and how'd it get so wrong?
A simple song and we're just burning slow
Melting pot is on a simmer, bitter boiled winter lingers
Cauldron keeps us warm, so tell me what's dinner
Sinner, saint, and primate fate, a painting of our dynasty
Winners hate the finer things, trash heaps filled with diamond rings
A sign of our symptom, the blessings of a system
Ignored the cost and wouldn't listen
Mining all those elements at least you have a phone
Cellular circulations circumvents the patients
Doctors take vacation, they were roaming out of zone
Can't see the cancer for the hyper efficient growth of cells
Build a new tower copy Babylon before it fell

Hell, adjust the shrink wraps, package gifts up nice and tightly
Nightly drop the drink cups, stack dreams more sad than frightening
Brain freeze tremor, deceptive validation
Frame squeeze remember, that you don't know what to do
Detective allocations, blame FAT table 32
I'm a node inside a neural net, fried, deprived an epithet
Disguised in my own habits tried to pick apart taboos
Close my eyes pretend, there's no me, there's only you
The movies in this skull, crack the screen and come unglued
This body is a vessel, stream of conscious running through

Fuck, no... no
Hold up,
Hold up, you know what?
Bring that back, bring that back, bring that back

I'm a Hedonist, with heathen mixed add a dash of asshole
The dreams of which, would seem to switch, right before the lasso
Tightens up and cinches, it's a noose around the neck
Quick, take away my change before i start to dissect
My dreams and memories, a steady stream, of "what's it all about"
Is it called life if fulfilling moments happen on a couch?
Where's the doubt? where's the love? where's the anger?
It's all in my head, to myself I'm a stranger
Waiting in a hanger, most those dreams already take flight
Chart daily courses, notions rage, dying of the light
Is it life? olfactory, monotony, smell the bleach and fight
Dream police win monopoly
But this dream is bright
Cause we're walking toward sunrise
Divinity and demons making love
The sound is sublime
Opposites attract when fear is confined to
The space between your heel and your shoe

Written by:
Ishmael Antar

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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