Fizz Songtext
Through the valley with a howl and a hiss, every step is like a house on a witch, any Judas into sappin' how I'm zappin' get the trowel and brick, I'm all thought-crime, cowlick and fizz, you could pull up to whatever close encounter you want, catch him with a dozen flowers or an owl and wand, pick a path, firebrand, miss him with the hooey, beleaguer a baddie and add em to ratatouille, ooey, I still chief L's on a rooftop, you still need help with your juice box, I'm trouble, you troubleshoot a lot, cue his blue blockers maneuvering through the future shock, where fam from a different phase of the crawl, get to step up and fail to communicate through a wall, maybe it's less about escape and more a favor to y'all, after waking up with geometry engraved in his palm, either way
We are not the same, heaven is a lie, I think you a lame, lemme get a fry
We are in the weeds, begging for a sign, I think you a leech, lemme get a fry
I avoid sunlight, Chuckie, and buckets without fuzzy dice, money pits, and sucker shit, and run-ins with the blood of christ, unabashed do-nothings who do nothing but multiply, and multiply, or any hooded reaper out to thumb-a-ride, desert cottontail hanging from his talons, I been hanging with my demons, future hanging in the balance, plan a caper on a napkin, trading slang into the evening, drive a tank around Manhattan, what a world, what a world, broken, bloody, undeterred, local weather rumbling on some mother earth with stomach worms, current mood bluer than a gummy shark, I should probably learn to move around the color bar, I should probably wear some jewelry made of human bone, It adds a visual component to my "you should go", thought bubble generally jam-packed, with dollar sign, exclamation point, ampersand, hash
We are not the same, heaven is a lie, I think you a lame, lemme get a fry
We are in the weeds, begging for a sign, I think you a leech, lemme get a fry
We are not the same, heaven is a lie, I think you a lame, lemme get a fry
We are in the weeds, begging for a sign, I think you a leech, lemme get a fry
I avoid sunlight, Chuckie, and buckets without fuzzy dice, money pits, and sucker shit, and run-ins with the blood of christ, unabashed do-nothings who do nothing but multiply, and multiply, or any hooded reaper out to thumb-a-ride, desert cottontail hanging from his talons, I been hanging with my demons, future hanging in the balance, plan a caper on a napkin, trading slang into the evening, drive a tank around Manhattan, what a world, what a world, broken, bloody, undeterred, local weather rumbling on some mother earth with stomach worms, current mood bluer than a gummy shark, I should probably learn to move around the color bar, I should probably wear some jewelry made of human bone, It adds a visual component to my "you should go", thought bubble generally jam-packed, with dollar sign, exclamation point, ampersand, hash
We are not the same, heaven is a lie, I think you a lame, lemme get a fry
We are in the weeds, begging for a sign, I think you a leech, lemme get a fry
Miffed, stabbed and flat dissed, add a little music and the dagger do the twist, I'm a hazard to the mission, drop a dish in your room tone, gaffle a bag of taffy, catch a tag on a tombstone, ey, get accustomed to the irritated easily, I can not be trusted if motherfuckers is Tweedle Dee, further, everything is either beeping or foreseen to be, mobile ringing, I can feel my life force leaving me, flesh a temple of doom, the whole rest go XO, red balloon, bent spoons from the second I could shed the cocoon, to my controversial first fake step on the moon, at a mile off, home in on a protein for the goulash, staring razors at 'em, shred a actor into udon, strangers like "gimme 2 of, dude what are you on?", a single dose of Woo-hah in the Yukon
