Drawbridge

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