Garbage lyrics

Artist  : Aesop Rock 
Song : Garbage



 Send "Garbage" Ringtone to your Cell 

 

The ritual goes, same window different
visual.



Wing of wax, or wing of gold leaf

Choose one. Float or plummet 20 thousand cold
legues

My nourishment's provided in the summer

So that I wonder

How y'all chasin' dreams when what's tangible
still outruns ya

Hail dirty doll immaculate performance

Warm as the march of a billion torches forward to
burn what I born at

Cut and paste alertness to current set is
provided quick

Shimmy the pirate ship mast, bat the eyelids at
the siren in her bow (?)

Facing, let's salute the embrace pertinent
generals who turned innocent hermits to burning
spectacles.

Flirtin' with a serpent workin' overtime

Drain the battery, siphon the poison and flood
his majesty's hatchery.

I was riding on the yellow bus to where the brush
thickens.

Yeah, an it ain't exactly plush pickin's

I'd rather take the time to burn every last
bridge I've ever crossed beneath the sun

Than live my life knowin' you may one day follow
me over one.

Snake bite

Breath too heavy to hold. 

Caught up in the wake of the red witch tryin' to
swim it.

Ran for the sake of dead click stripped of
idealic image

Steal a sloppy earth meal feed my pottery wheel
to model collossal vision

Thrill, shrunken with a bucket of pennies

I'ma drag my sneakers through the dirt like
alligator bellies

'Til the cloud burst

Honour and a loud thirst submersed in a trap

Little drummer boy verse' thunderclap



In a city of garbage, tryin' to reap the
harvest

Adaption is the trap in which the artist meets
the forest

Swing your little axe or be an oak tree if you
can

Either way, adapt to circumstance or play you
final hand.



No enigma, an attempt to bury the hatchet

Rendered me victim of deviltry plus wounded like
stigmatics

Somethin's somethin hazardous

I smell an inch of differnce in this mornin's
pollution pistons and how the loose ends drift
in

My sour pash (?) institutions slipped in admidst
the invaders and,

Pardon my tone but,

This garden's grown fucken' acres since my
visit.

Itchin' to count the layers in the blizzard to
that chapter where my family inserts the dagger
and twists it.

It's the carnival, have you any sweets for my
weary kin

It's the carnival, have you any feed for my
cheery grin

It's the carnival, welcome, play our games you'll
never win

Coz it's that carnival where every freak show
spectacle's your friend.

An' I'm a,

Ghostly galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas

Antifreeze to glacier cookin' a look of fiery
nature 

It's the,

Ceilin' feelin' too heavy to bless the I-beams
for a fraction more collapse (I left sorry) that
to your door.

Bitchin' my back to hell's kitchen, back

Burnin' murder machinery, released regardless of
the pardons

Hitchin my life to the leash of one minstrel

Sick of same window different visual

Same agnostic hostage different ritual

Play, coopertive supercolony clash (I heard we
have a dust collection - let me see it) 

Ooh, I duel this underdog verse forced adaption
to the marbles of the now

Since then my knuckles haven't once dragged on
the ground.



In a city of garbage, tryin' to reap the
harvest

Adaption is the trap in which the artist meets
the forest

Swing your little axe or be an oak tree if you
can

Either way, adapt to circumstance or play you
final hand.



The ritual goes, same window different
visual.

The ritual is same fucken' window different
visual.