Текст пісні
Feel the positive essence of the words as you repeat them
Be relaxed with them and permit them to merge with your mind and become a part of you
Okay, fuck all that bullshit though
I'm picky, I only open books that glow
Whodunnits and cozy mysteries, who stole the crypt keys
Who showed the minions to the minced meat, it was me
Hut-hut, helmet off, blitz the whole bitstream
Override the A/V in, with A/V out the in-between
IV in, one of Epi, one of Ralph Steadman
Phoebe Judge, EPMD, The Amazing Kreskin
His bag is a braided bread, in the oven for thirty days
It's never the same twice, it's always a perfect bake
It's purple prose when you're looking for just the facts
You wanna know where I been, some other where nothing's mapped
Lost in the Waldbaums, faded facing thirty thousand square feet of wrong aisle
Long Isle, strong man, roll up in a Pontiac siege tower
Fire an arrow 45 degrees down
Accounting for the breeze
I can do that shit where you knock two arrows at once
And shoot the counter, separate things
I can hit a moving target from a moving target
It's a rabbit from an equine, it's an ET from a starship
The stoicism only misdirection for the metrics
It doesn't represent the actual pressure through the plexus
Or that maybe why I'm terrible with names is 'cause I'm special
At memorizing the exits during those same seconds
I jumped into a volcano
Climbed up, only to say my today is not on no today show
All recorded history is forfeit to the fuego
It's infinite present tense, presently on some next
Referencing something ancient that play to current events
In a way that feels just too flagrant to've occur by itself
I know that sound absurd as all hell
I don't even know what I'm saying for certain, surely it's "help"
Uh, help?
You have to decide to overcome your fear and ask for help
Help!
No one will know you need it, unless you ask
Same bat-time, same bat-channel
Same flatline, same plaid flannel
Same bad gamble, same graf name on the ax handle
Brand new taxidermied mammal on the mantle, man
Man, I ain't sneaking by the sleeping bear
I mean, if you ain't down to let it eat you, why you even here?
Pigeon on my shoulder like a goth Rio
The putdown Picasso here to un-massage the ego
I'm friend of foe depending on the content in your keynote
And not above the lobbing of a rotten tomatillo
Honestly, it's getting hard to watch like paradise for parking lots
Nevermind that parking lots are paradise, the paradox
Oh, the places you'll go and exploding aerosols
The running with a boiling beaker in a pair of tongs
Drink a shot of ant and roach, eat a bowl of Cherry Bombs
With peri-peri, no, with chimichurri sauce
Boyhood drawing b-boys with big sneakers 'til the shoe fit
Now they pouring plaster in the foot print
Take it to the lab, show the cast to the bullpen
All you get is choruses of "I call bullshit"
That's how a giant flyeth under the radar for so long
Y'all underestimate the day-arc I'm on
The stay dark at dawn, carnival barker
The autumn Barbisol marksmen
The can up the arm of his Nautica parka
At large, from playing Dig Dug at the IHOP
To undead three-inch-punching a pine box
To, magus of the month, three months standing
In more than magenta, yellow and cyan ink
It's a wave, it ebb and it swell
It could celebrate the memory or separate the cells
It could focus on excelling or accentuate the Hell
That's excellent, can it send help?
'Cause uh, help?
Just remember, it's up to you to choose to get help
Help
And there is nothing to be embarrassed about, it will only help you