In a severe beat persistent,
in scarecrows we wait.
Civil Quarters in Hatian tongue,
fatherless forfeiture
blue cerebral lawn
Hollow be your fertility,
bundled in shambles
Auditory clock,
little hand on the stolen permission,
big hand ticking on your lame excuse ambition.
It's three day evolution O' clock,
in the eye of the norm,
between the cracks of syntax error
presubstance upheaval,
embalming parades
sitting and waiting for the beep:
I got the human question,
and you got the answering machine.
and I pricked my nails on the Ouija board splinters,
checked all my mesages and your tone gave me all sorts of shivers
Screeched my nails down on the green chalkboard,
never was I more determined:
500 times I must not talk
out of turn
nesting, I am the legion, I am my own membership
Incident, the circumference of your chain link steering wheel,
rolling dice,
plush interior,
power steering clear of objects that are closer than they appear
in the rear view of the mirror

all your "soons" are all of my "nows"

I bought myself with apologies,
no returns
indent with attendant repair,
demand and supply,
swimming in bourbon,
and spoiled without an offsides penalty with Russian alibies and masked as intuition, lullabies
and your check bounced higher than any other piece of plagiarism,
stolen from concrete expenses.
It expired, repetitive calamity with tender pitch, and your risk nature
well, not a damn thing becomes epic in wetback proportions.
Nothing holds the pages in mid-sentence anxiety against bought-out variety
these partly cloudy assumptions
under the counter pleads if by reason of profanity
ditto, mine.
alone, intact and faithfully humble.
Amusement likes those who mumble
rack on top shelf categorization
I bought myself with apologies
Indent, Attendant repair.
Repulsive, gentle lower east side abundance
I got the human question,
and you got the answering machine.
And I got my fists in my pockets,
and all the fallen angels dancin' at my feet
and all your soons will always be all of my nows.

all your "soons" are all of my "nows"

"Not I," said the redness in my eyes,
who happened to be choking on its own gizzard,
getting stuck in the side of the air passages
compact and phlegm fetal concentration camp vacancy
with bulldozer suaveness,
tiptoeing in the safety of your own home
lashing out in self defense to the undertow of your intruder projectile excuses
I got a human question, and you got the
answering machine

Lyrics submitted by manuscriptreplica

Salient song meanings
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    General CommentThis song has so many snippits of later ATD-I songs, undoubtably poetry Cedric wrote, which later became songs.
    AndImJelloBabyon April 11, 2006   Link

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