In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
Aye, what's this fucking guy doing?
What are you doing?
Right now, what are you doing?
What are you doing?
Yeah, yes sir
Put change in, put change in his cup
Weathermen
Where's that weirdo with the fucking kazoo, aye
Sharks in the dunk tank, vipers in a garden
Locusts stole the groceries out the local farmer's market
All god's critters hold positions
Some are violent, some are victims
Each alive is an equal and vital piston I support
So when the piranhas honor New York
My daddy long legs dangled and mangled for sport
And while I bring in every dink in the kingdom with open wings
It all boils down to them shit-soaked pigs
The pigs (what), the pigs (what), the dregs of what y'all aim for
The gluttonous muddy stomachs under the pudgy cakehole
The two-track brainiac using the food and payroll
That chew up and consume every cookie, crumb and peso
And place a cloven hoof on a lucrative when convenient
As the bourbon-odor smokers' coughs smolder off the Cohiba
If Noah had the benefit of hindsight on his ship
He coulda snatched two unicorns and left behind the motherfucking
Pigs, god damn pigs
Potbelly pigs
Punch-drunk pigs
Take money, money pigs
Loudmouth pigs
Wide load pigs
Let's make a deal
When all the wolves in woolly wigs
Have huffed, and puffed and blew the bricks
The skulls of Brooklyn's cruelest pigs will rain on Fulton's newest kicks
As mulish swine of all surrounding counties sniff the gruesomeness
We pass around the pineapples and pull the pins in unison
I will gladly feed you to the breed who wants you sacrificed
No pagan or sacrilege, just bacon for scavengers
I will gladly seat you with the chickens, not the passengers
Hopefully the crack in his armor spreads to his avarice
Never that, Wilbur's multiply quicker than tribbles
And hunt their truffles in fistfuls, but it was all bells and whistles
Bougie this and bougie that, war pig or pussy cat
Glitzy to the pork ribs, had to gold-leaf the booby traps
Powder-pink, double-breasted, mess of mud and money
Waddle off the fire to make his stubborn tummy wroggle
And while I don't really know the working details of your tribes
I know that that's one ugly fucking tie, asshole
Pigs, god damn pigs
Potbelly pigs
Punch-drunk pigs
Take money, money pigs
Loudmouth pigs
Wide load pigs
Let's make a deal
Apple in his mouth, maraschino eyes
Party like the butcher boy's cleaver is alive
I mosey into sixteen hours of smoke in the misty winter
To see the county fair's blue ribbon winner as dinner
Then dance until the sun has kissed your blisters in the morning
As the misery was dormant and divvyng in crispy portions
Corporates want to lure him in and whore him
Or does he whore the corporates to expand the more important forums for him?
Push the mortar pestle past the ordinary orchard
When the frilly border's faded is the product mine or yours, pig?
Mine, plus I toss a token where I go
Directly to the worms who shovel shit and yellow snow
This little piggy went to the market with a target
And will subsequently know the armor-piercing forks of farmers
Final words for the finer birds taking notes
I dig a chick in pig tails, "that's all folks"
Pigs, god damn pigs
Potbelly pigs
Punch-drunk pigs
Take money, money pigs
Loudmouth pigs
Wide load pigs
Let's make a deal
What are you doing?
Right now, what are you doing?
What are you doing?
Yeah, yes sir
Put change in, put change in his cup
Weathermen
Where's that weirdo with the fucking kazoo, aye
Sharks in the dunk tank, vipers in a garden
Locusts stole the groceries out the local farmer's market
All god's critters hold positions
Some are violent, some are victims
Each alive is an equal and vital piston I support
So when the piranhas honor New York
My daddy long legs dangled and mangled for sport
And while I bring in every dink in the kingdom with open wings
It all boils down to them shit-soaked pigs
The pigs (what), the pigs (what), the dregs of what y'all aim for
The gluttonous muddy stomachs under the pudgy cakehole
The two-track brainiac using the food and payroll
That chew up and consume every cookie, crumb and peso
And place a cloven hoof on a lucrative when convenient
As the bourbon-odor smokers' coughs smolder off the Cohiba
If Noah had the benefit of hindsight on his ship
He coulda snatched two unicorns and left behind the motherfucking
Pigs, god damn pigs
Potbelly pigs
Punch-drunk pigs
Take money, money pigs
Loudmouth pigs
Wide load pigs
Let's make a deal
When all the wolves in woolly wigs
Have huffed, and puffed and blew the bricks
The skulls of Brooklyn's cruelest pigs will rain on Fulton's newest kicks
As mulish swine of all surrounding counties sniff the gruesomeness
We pass around the pineapples and pull the pins in unison
I will gladly feed you to the breed who wants you sacrificed
No pagan or sacrilege, just bacon for scavengers
I will gladly seat you with the chickens, not the passengers
Hopefully the crack in his armor spreads to his avarice
Never that, Wilbur's multiply quicker than tribbles
And hunt their truffles in fistfuls, but it was all bells and whistles
Bougie this and bougie that, war pig or pussy cat
Glitzy to the pork ribs, had to gold-leaf the booby traps
Powder-pink, double-breasted, mess of mud and money
Waddle off the fire to make his stubborn tummy wroggle
And while I don't really know the working details of your tribes
I know that that's one ugly fucking tie, asshole
Pigs, god damn pigs
Potbelly pigs
Punch-drunk pigs
Take money, money pigs
Loudmouth pigs
Wide load pigs
Let's make a deal
Apple in his mouth, maraschino eyes
Party like the butcher boy's cleaver is alive
I mosey into sixteen hours of smoke in the misty winter
To see the county fair's blue ribbon winner as dinner
Then dance until the sun has kissed your blisters in the morning
As the misery was dormant and divvyng in crispy portions
Corporates want to lure him in and whore him
Or does he whore the corporates to expand the more important forums for him?
Push the mortar pestle past the ordinary orchard
When the frilly border's faded is the product mine or yours, pig?
Mine, plus I toss a token where I go
Directly to the worms who shovel shit and yellow snow
This little piggy went to the market with a target
And will subsequently know the armor-piercing forks of farmers
Final words for the finer birds taking notes
I dig a chick in pig tails, "that's all folks"
Pigs, god damn pigs
Potbelly pigs
Punch-drunk pigs
Take money, money pigs
Loudmouth pigs
Wide load pigs
Let's make a deal
Lyrics submitted by ThisIsLabor, edited by Adrien
Pigs [Accapella] Lyrics as written by Ian Bavitz
Lyrics © Songtrust Ave
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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I would also add a simple punctuation correction:
"And while I don't know the working details of your tribes I know that that's one ugly fucking tie Asshole pigs..."
Should be:
"And while I don't know the working details of your tribes I know that that's one ugly fucking tie... Asshole.
Pigs... (CHORUS)"
At least, that's how I hear it. I think the "asshole" is a continuation of the insult in the verse, and the "pigs" kicks the chorus off.
This is such a great track, I'm surprised it was hidden!
Yea man. I finally get it. Aesop is talking about police vs. the people in Brooklyn and Fulton. How the police are swayed by influences. The farmers appear to be the just people who try and punish them whenever a policeman acts corrupt and is shown. Ace is just an explorer, exploring this.