MonaVox
Rock n' Roll Doggie
Kill Everything
You want a love poem for all the dictators
(?so they?ll wake up from wanting to be the meat saved for later
and wrapped up inside your voice
and say ?I?m always fine, I?m always OK or greater.??)
What they lack in volume, they make up for in noise.
You want a promise, a parachute, a life or something greater.
You want a love poem for all the dictators.
Well, I?m just a scale on the big fish.
I?m the dreamer who forgot her wish.
I?m the coast, the cavern, the cure and the curse.
I?m the joke God?s playing on the universe.
We?ve got it so wrong.
There are some sounds you just don?t have in your language,
like voicesteps on every bad bridge slightly singed,
and the niceties, the intimacies,
turns to the Best, an unlucky guess,
folly ripening, reason rotting,
seasons fighting, all of it rotting.
There?s not a lot left,
just more room to move it around.
We didn?t lose anything,
we just have more room to fill now.
So count your name
and spell your age
and try to figure out why you kill everything in your way.
I?m a frequent girl to beg, blind, and bless.
I?m a frequent girl for a fight/fuck love/kill stretch.
You think if you move just right past the perfect edge,
you can twist out of the wrong hands, be worse than the Mess.
What don?t I understand?
I can?t divide,
I don?t impress,
I can?t design,
I don?t suppress.
And what I lack in volume
I make up for in noise.
And the fight/fuck love/kill boy,
you?re a face out of tune with my hands, and it plays
??the way the world ends, I don?t want to be the game,
I want to make the game.?
Well, there?s not a lot left of you,
Just more room for me to move around.
We didn?t lose anything, we didn?t lose a thing.
There?s just more to fill now.
So I count my name
And I spell my age
And try to figure out why I kill everything in my way.
Buy the home just to burn it down!
Nothing left but room to move us around.
The folly is ripe,
Reason turned to wine.
Open your head,
Lift up your eyes.
You know the weight
By forced levity of voice,
A lovely fighting volume, a fucking killing noise.
Open my head
Lift up my eyes.
You know the weight
By ?Heaven has florescent lights.?
Does your house burn?
God, did you pay all the bills?
I?m the joke on your universe,
Nothing less, just more to fill.
Can you count your name,
Can you spell your age?
Or at least say
Why I kill everything in your way,
Then say ?It?s always fine, It?s all OK or better,?
Then write love poems for all the dictators.
You want a love poem for all the dictators
(?so they?ll wake up from wanting to be the meat saved for later
and wrapped up inside your voice
and say ?I?m always fine, I?m always OK or greater.??)
What they lack in volume, they make up for in noise.
You want a promise, a parachute, a life or something greater.
You want a love poem for all the dictators.
Well, I?m just a scale on the big fish.
I?m the dreamer who forgot her wish.
I?m the coast, the cavern, the cure and the curse.
I?m the joke God?s playing on the universe.
We?ve got it so wrong.
There are some sounds you just don?t have in your language,
like voicesteps on every bad bridge slightly singed,
and the niceties, the intimacies,
turns to the Best, an unlucky guess,
folly ripening, reason rotting,
seasons fighting, all of it rotting.
There?s not a lot left,
just more room to move it around.
We didn?t lose anything,
we just have more room to fill now.
So count your name
and spell your age
and try to figure out why you kill everything in your way.
I?m a frequent girl to beg, blind, and bless.
I?m a frequent girl for a fight/fuck love/kill stretch.
You think if you move just right past the perfect edge,
you can twist out of the wrong hands, be worse than the Mess.
What don?t I understand?
I can?t divide,
I don?t impress,
I can?t design,
I don?t suppress.
And what I lack in volume
I make up for in noise.
And the fight/fuck love/kill boy,
you?re a face out of tune with my hands, and it plays
??the way the world ends, I don?t want to be the game,
I want to make the game.?
Well, there?s not a lot left of you,
Just more room for me to move around.
We didn?t lose anything, we didn?t lose a thing.
There?s just more to fill now.
So I count my name
And I spell my age
And try to figure out why I kill everything in my way.
Buy the home just to burn it down!
Nothing left but room to move us around.
The folly is ripe,
Reason turned to wine.
Open your head,
Lift up your eyes.
You know the weight
By forced levity of voice,
A lovely fighting volume, a fucking killing noise.
Open my head
Lift up my eyes.
You know the weight
By ?Heaven has florescent lights.?
Does your house burn?
God, did you pay all the bills?
I?m the joke on your universe,
Nothing less, just more to fill.
Can you count your name,
Can you spell your age?
Or at least say
Why I kill everything in your way,
Then say ?It?s always fine, It?s all OK or better,?
Then write love poems for all the dictators.
