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Edward Scissortongue
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Better. Luck. Next. Life
Let's try figure this out
Why am I sitting here scribbling shit that I'm thinking about?
The ships long sailed for a quick little script litter picked dribble drips from the mouth
Years of this tunnelling down
I've grown weak from the tunnels I've found
It gets deep when the current surrounds, speech bubbles bleep bleeping aloud
Deep in the breathing, evil seems to increase as the grease gets deeper
Past lives dawn in the flytraps
Caught in a wisecrack synapse touring the ether, either
The morgues snatch more of your life than your mind thought live in the first place
Or the cause of your mind's short shortage is prize to a death's door floor place
Thirteen years of this rhyme pad fraff
And in that time I've done zilch on an album or track that was worth one minute of your time, one penny of your cash
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But I'm still here meddling with raps
And the words get heavier with that
See man makes music
Man takes man made maps made lucid, man made that
Hide the inventions and lasso the moon with the wires you're left with
And tattoo these bars on your face just to prove that you're down with this mindless perspective
But you'll never get out alive out of sight of land settlements drown the sky sediment down the pipes gone
Washed up, bled dry
Less bright
Better luck next life
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