Drawbridge (feat. Doseone)

This is not your ordinary ballad With a perfect little bow around the middle And a black knight on a white horse Or a white knight on a black horse It's got all these tired parts where We don't even sing and random princess raise the drawbridge We don't serve your kind It ends where it begins And the beginning isn't pretty Can't forget that not-so-perfect Bow around the middle ('round the middle, 'round the middle, 'round the middle, 'round the middle) And it goes a little something like this Moonwalking a broken soul pedigree incessant Gut the cruddy frame The zealots enveloped inside the belly of the blame Cutthroats the result of pulp jokes soaked in poacher constants And not a jewel amidst coal wander prominent honor (Honor) I bought up silkworms by the bucket like starter kits Sew your first martyr stitch Join damaged mammoth brigading caper Nurse the tantrum with a fantasy chaser I keep the spare wings strapped to my fuses In case the hackers snatch the plumage So you mean these things are worth money Now drifting off This is the who-you-calling-homeless Mock me fearful Twisted mighty fearful twisted and tonight I got front-row seats at the d-d-d-d-dead concert And you're in it, Ichabod Running out of morals for my allegory (moseying) My kind of people will sell only circles (woseying) With my eyes patched in a not so new universe So I beckon and bray but my pretty bird just ain't muting the many Oh it'll be soon (Real soon) Balloon immune to doom blend I ain't ditchin' the kitchen 'til every spoon bends A glance along tomorrow, sorry Looking lot of hopefuls was the rain dance My little flint never dreamed would flutter potable See I sanitize nothing for the sake of contemporary taste Contemporary taste made my lip drop in the first place (Incoming) Hmm, You want to be a Czar? idolize fallen heroics Recognize root of the worship, search and hold it Who put the fun in dysfunctional? I, prodigal son combustible, donkey-punching pinholes In uncomfortable Zen conjunctionals for good (Good) The bear cub slop a goblet of dirt wine I nurse a single application of introvert, serpentine Now a sunset without a scrape of red an-an-and a plastic bag noise Sunk down around his head sick-sick-sick-sick Stealing a peak There's sickness likeness in the roofer's eyes and his alone And nothing terrible happened to the bag Wrongs spilled off in And brought on out the clouds The hiss cuts out Spill its voice And the piano And the window full of Star is fresh kept From where I'm going holy other Holy other, holy other, holy other B-B-B-B-B-But I've got charcoals in my heart, I've got charcoals in my heart I've got charcoals by the armfuls that burn my armor apart I've got charcoals in my heart, but I've got charcoals in my heart I've got charcoals by the armfuls that burn my armor apart And before, when I said 'Shut the fuck up, it's none of your business' That was to be in vain Be sure to lock that up when you're all finished Finished yet? Now uhm... I usually finish this number with uh... my skull open Everybody rally around the novel burners, spit, murder the matches Where the junkies trade diseases and the gullible trade passions Then the masses wanna lean on me like "oh captain, my captain" Not considering maybe this orphan hosts morbid attachments Button, button, who's got the button Take my name, please Button, button, who's got the button Leaks the little gentle man made of lightning inside my lock-box Oh, you like to help with coats wait unti you see what I got in this here locket This is not your ordinary ballad With a perfect little bow around the middle And a black knight on a white horse Or a white knight on a black horse And I can't forget the not-so-perfect bow around the middle Round the middle, round the middle, round the