Tuned Mass Damper lyrics

Artist  : El-p 
Song : Tuned Mass Damper



 Send "Tuned Mass Damper" Ringtone to your Cell 

 I took this photograph soaking wet
After an 8-ball's cataract broke a jazz face
threat
The same touch to the chest of a young musician
He wrote his own eulogy with cocaine hands
Heroin arms, Novocain undies
Long since dropped in the room for dead [animals]
Off of the dome, sh*t I'm off of the phone
Off of the couch, off track
I've been OTB with a stub and a heart murmur
A flask and a fanny pack
A bastard on any track
(C'mon) Daddy needs a new Megatron
Cause the die cast was metal and blasted his left
arm
You should've viewed how it affected John
He's an erected brother, choose to burst loose
from the black panther
Cannonballing from mattresses into puny little
fragments
Gleaming white under the black light
Well that's a random journal entry from
scissor-hand nostalgia
Powers down to transfers
To somewhat like the methodology of bare-knuckle
compassion
A train wreck waiting to happen
Spelled out in refrigerator magnets
G-R-O-W-N-A-S-S-M-A-N, Duckin' his own death
threats
We stay fresh (What?)
You microscopic Sally Struthers with a lobster
bib, munchin' on white platelets
Epiphanies lead battle soprano
Come back to dead friends, the hardest way to get
sent
You motherf**kers don't have grit, you're all
teenage poetry, martyrs without causes
Move onwards to the pin with this (test)
Motherf**ker, did I sound abstract?
I hope it sounded more confusing than that
 
My priority was found under the arm of an
economy-sized mousetrap 
I dedicate this to Matt Doo (thank you)
My name is El-P, I produce and I rap too

You're not promised tomorrow
You're not promised tomorrow
You're not promised tomorrow
You're not promised tomorrow
You're not promised tomorrow
You're not promised tomorrow
You're not promised tomorrow
You're not promised tomorrow

Yo, yo
A bottle [rocket], conflicted, I'll throw you a
flaming [wingnick]
Looking for a hero's stars, Looking for heart in
the halls
I swear, that lust monkey sweat soaks my balls   
   
And this is one step from a junkie living,
breakin in doors
[My face low], for thermonucleus games
Spill rain the open drain, who the f**k is down
to steal me some pain
I'm feeling ancient with this shit, on some
capitalist order scripts
I'm lit, trying to draw this figure eight with a
twig
As if the symmetry alone is the perscription to
live
The rusty touch throughout the tongs are working,
plummeting in
This is a far cry from the prevalential focus of
things
Another rally 'round the family 'til the quota
complete
My generation is beautiful, [all the rep hold the
bliss]
Wet ears, and adjust the mood 'til my final exit
Plus we torture on the traumas in exact moon
script
Tuned Mass Damper baby, yeah, that's the shit