Rectangle Creep - On the Days That I Fly

On the days that I fly
I'm America's sweet tart
The crux of absolutely everything

But when the eagle lands
With other eagles
It lands in a pile of shit
This island hammock
Of the subconscious
Is the spoilt milk
Of human kindness
So I call back
My perfect pal and drone
To help assemble
A perfect palindrome
Again we fly
Headgear

I'm into home evasion
Outside jokes
I'm a fucking quadfecta
Yeah

Written by:
Rectangle Creep

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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Rectangle Creep

Rectangle Creep

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