Gears
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Lyrics
Like a handgun I'm silver-tongued and largely-aimless
Grande flavour
Maybe save a half for later?
The masked crusader lay it filthy as a carburettor
Start to blaze, I'll play guitar up in your party later
No "Wonderwall", it's been done before
I cut the raw sessions, illustrate the mic is how I draw my weapon
I caught a fresh one, help me get this in the bucket
It's a long hike, travel light and pack for the weather
But never you ever forget to bring the ruckus
I've never been that type of guy to try to fight on stage
I'd rather stay inside my cave, starry gazing
Half-baked scheming since late teens
Eight seasons in the same jeans
Master day-dreamer, half a jar of baked beans for dinner
Pipe down, like you're trying to kick the habit
I was a boy without possessions, except the unlikely gift of magic
I spark and flick the matches at the pious in their ivory towers
Man's red flower for the cowards out to try these powers
(My mind's gears freeze, they keep seizing)
Breakfast, consume the breaks, and I ruminate
(The wheels of cognition cease and need greasing, releasing)
The mighty pen makes lemons of your swords
So if life is a war, then my weapon is my thought
(My mind's gears freeze, they keep seizing)
Breakfast, consume the breaks, and I ruminate
(The wheels of cognition cease and need greasing, releasing)
The mighty pen makes lemons of your swords
So if life is a war, then my weapon is my thought
If I don't sell singles, then I ain't a single-cell-er
A complex organism, right? All the organs organised inside
Water-tight, like "officer, it was never I!
The night in question, I was checking corpses for the breath of life"
Set-aside the fact I never stepped inside the murder scene
Preferring burning effigies to death in third-degree
And certainly, I turn the trees from green to burgundy
Unburdened of the web of fear and dread that near-encircles me
Slurped the tea, and in the leaves, I saw a vision form
A string of corporate whores, ignoring paupers
Gnawing smorgasbords and talking more of war
As permafrost is turned to slosh
Racists walk with flaming torches, court the blaze, and burn the cross
I swallow rage as impotent as instruments in drum and bass
Await the hand of fate to raise and clock me in my stubborn face
Drunk and blazed and somewhat-dazed
Mumbling, slow tongue fumbling to make the phrase
(My mind's gears freeze, they keep seizing)
Breakfast, consume the breaks, and I ruminate
(The wheels of cognition cease and need greasing, releasing)
The mighty pen makes lemons of your swords
So if life is a war, then my weapon is my thought
(My mind's gears freeze, they keep seizing)
Breakfast, consume the breaks, and I ruminate
(The wheels of cognition cease and need greasing, releasing)
The mighty pen makes lemons of your swords
So if life is a war, then my weapon is my thought
This damned machine, it keeps squeaking
The gears of cognition, they cease and need greasing
Speak of me? Please, at least get your rumours straight
Starving artist, consume the breaks and I ruminate
A spoon to scrape remains of cats from the lion's den
Enclosure closed for cleaning, lest the scheming heads will try again
The mighty pen makes lemons of your swords
So if life is a war, then my weapon is my thought