a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

lirik lagu joel martin from toledo - brother benjamin

this week’s a nuclear reactor spill that’s messing up our dna
the half~life of this disaster’s still at least as long as yesterday
with our symptoms still early, i’m trying not to worry your mind..
but as my vision gets blurry you look more like madame curie every night
i didn’t wanna go like this, with our cells splitting into more (that van allen belt)
it’s like if theseus’s ship, with each piece replaced, were bigger than before (i never shoulda wore)
i hear we’re on the last lеg of this strange human race and can’t win
it’s a marble~pipе game it’s a broken~brake train on a cliff

but it’s not the little tribes who cl~stered this f~ck
it’s the quote end~quote “civilized” who f~cked this clus~
ter of heavenly mind and stardust
yet feel compelled to evangelize that rabid dogma
to anyone who hasn’t joined the fun

black mold on the sheetrock guess the water’s finally seeping through
cracked holes in the sidewalk from some insubordinate tree roots
we’re singing opera in the caves with the stalactites over our heads
waiting to chop us like tomatoes for the salad sliced and bleeding red
but there are little scattered bits of hope like agates in the road if you look
gotta gather ’em one by one with those you love until you fill your bucket up
and alone you stand no chance, honey, they don’t give a rat’s r~ct~m
but if the whole hill of ants does gregorian chant they’ll have no choice but to listen up

sometimes i dream i call it quits and raise my hand
they won’t need an ornithologist to understand
just kind of bird it’d be, with all my wrath
but because of how absurd it’d be, i know that i’d just laugh
at them or me i’m never sure what at
probably by monday i’d be back
one year we got snowed in, just my brother benjamin and me
video games to numb our brains, a pound of gummy worms to rot our t~~th
he had chains on his corolla, and we had change for some cola from the store
but we spun idly in place like a vinyl that won’t play anymore
and some days i wonder if we’re still there spinning the wheels
and i’m gonna wake up suddenly and not know which life is real
though i’m not 25, at times i feel like a train station bench
with life rushing by while i age without moving an inch

maybe i exist inside a show, and i die if it’s not seen
so i hope the viewer takes it home, shares it with their family
i hope it wins a golden globe, a ten on imdb
so that i have the most time possible to scheme
my royal escaping from christof’s camera screen

every time i start to feel like i’ve made it
out of the tape reel
and hit the ball out of the park
i find i’m the archetype yankee
billy martin there waiting to point out the pine tar

(background lyrics: hey ben, are we livin’ in seahaven? in seahaven?)

no alcohol in our home, ‘cause my parent’s strictly forbade it
but ben hid whiskey in the wardrobe and vodka underneath the bed
and that’s what we’re all doing, ain’t it? keeping something hidden up our sleeve? (maybe a chalice in the grist?)
with our guilty conscious chewing us out until it finally falls asleep (but is there malice or intent?)
and then it’s up to us, to try and wake it up to the good
yeah but don’t we need our conscience to feel as if we honestly should?
maybe it’s inherent in me still, and my pear tree guilt is proof
there’s evil soaking in my veins, bro, i’m totally depraved and so are you
but it might not be that simple, could be we’re all just like curious george
and the messes we get into outlive us like agent orange
with all our stomachs full of fruit, it’s hard come to a conclusion who’s to blame
just billions of reluctant stanley~milgram~torture~b~tton~pushers who can’t bring ourselves to disobey
ourselves
and it’s hard when you’re the scientist, confederate, partic~p~nt and the test itself
so do whatever suits ya, whatever makes you spark
replace the kama sutra, with the cia kubark
that’s more power to ya, if you like to be shocked
but what you gonna do when even that wears off?
and i promise it wears off

baby don’t you look so broken when i tell you that’s my heart’s frozen thick
most the modern world is frozen if you really stop to think about it
the massive skyscr~pers and the plastic knives and plates you hold
all ice in their own right, but it don’t seem like it ‘cause they don’t feel cold
and that’s the way i am, that’s the way i’ve been since i was a kid (like otzi)
i’m not saying it’s healthy i’m just trying to tell you how it is (or at least it could be)
it’s not that i don’t cry or that i’m not in love with this life
but the only b~tterflies i’ve ever felt in my stomach were knives (followed by puking)

[background vocals (during previous verse):
“yet nothing can to nothing fall, nor any place be empty quite
therefore i think i still have all those pieces though they’re not unite
and now as broken glasses show a hundred lesser faces so
my heart can like, wish, and adore, but, after rags, can love no more”]

when you look into my grey eyes, can you see my whole life?
does it seem like there’s anyone inside?
can you faintly see colors
or is it only evaporation lines?
evaporation lines
it’s dark as a dungeon down in the evaporation lines

[background vocals (during previous stanza):
“yet nothing can to nothing fall, nor any place be empty quite
therefore i think my chest still has all the splinters inside”]

if you don’t wanna play the part, you feel cast in from the start of your life
we can pretend it’s all constructed, and both dress like judith butler, that’s alright
or if you’re feeling old fashioned, we can be a bit romantic if you wish
but none of that cake and suit wearing, 1952 era kitsch
i’d rather be a train hopping, bank robin hood vigilante miscreant (those green byc~ckets)
in a merry band of brigands with out of tune instruments (spring fly~swatters)
and you can be a mandolin player, a caravan~with~kin~sashayer through the woods
a raccoon feeding, tune singing artisan of handmade goods

they might call it thieving, but we need food
we’re not waiting on zaccheus to change his tune
they don’t have to believe us, but we know it’s true
that we’re still friends with jesus too

melting now; this carbon monoxide
dozing off inside lincoln green technicolor dreams
“roll down the window! let the cold air flow!”
and why don’t we go get the shovel
and dig down to the gravel
until those squealing tires get a grip on the agates

[background vocals (during previous lyrics, beginning on “why don’t we”):
“even with king felix, we still can’t win..
hey ben, it’s like you said
‘the problem’s with the front office,’
‘cause even with king felix, we still can’t win”]

and before you know it, we’ll be drinking soda
watching the truman show till 4 am

- lirik lagu joel martin from toledo

Lirik lagu lainnya:

LIRIK YANG LAGI HITS MINGGU INI