E Numbers

Another stain wiped over the face
Of an entire clutch of reasonable guys
I flip a coin, seems the luck has run out
It's 2:40 and the clocks are wrong
Another stain matched by the reward
Off all the work made to show up the pros
And on the way, stop and show some respect
For those trying and abandoning
I want something I, something that I can see
Through the prism of stigmatism
With the white light, the shirking of its structure
Feed the kids the E numbers
Feed the kids the newscasters
Where do our tantrums go?
Where do our tantrums go?
She seems to know how twisted is this
My back is wrecked, spiked down through the spine
Lie flat on floors, with vertebrae down
Pitch perfect like a slamming door
But when it comes, I'll be unprepared
In soft clothes, rain drizzling down
Blaming the mind or anything close
You can't put it on forgetfulness
I want something I, something that I can see
Through the prism of stigmatism
With the white light, the shirking of its structure
Feed the kids the E numbers
Feed the kids the newscasters
Where do our tantrums go?
Where do our tantrums go?
Where do our tantrums go?
Where do our tantrums go?
Zoom out at speeds with sharp intakes of breath
Heads spinning up in the corners
Closer than it even began
I want something I, something that I can see
Through the prism of stigmatism
With the white light, the shirking of its structure
Feed the kids the E numbers
Feed the kids the newscasters
Where do our tantrums go?
Where do our tantrums go?
Where do our tantrums go?
Where do our tantrums go?