[Kimya Dawson]nI spun and I stood, and I look back at the good,nAnd I remembered seeing ghosts, and I remembered being tiny.nI remembered al...
[Kimya Dawson]nI spun and I stood, and I look back at the good,nAnd I remembered seeing ghosts, and I remembered being tiny.nI remembered always hiding with only flashlights lighting.nHad to pee when you found the best spot. Bad timing.nClimbing a dogwood. Barking, in bloom.nSting singing on the ceiling of a blue bedroom.nLike a Harlem-line summertime hootenanny barbecue:nScreaming "I'm fine!", but I think they all knew.nCause you can't hide your childhood flying dreamsnThrough your fishbowl-wall transparenciesnAnd the clock tick-tocked. It was time to leave.nI walked away from everyone and everything,nAnd I thought when I left, that I couldn't come back.nWith that old household never home again.nAnd then, when I ran toward the one-man-band,nI began abandoning all my friends.nn[Aesop Rock]nAll dressed up, like a spider in a cupnEntirely divided from his hubnAddressing injuries commissioned by the Suffolk county briernWhen building coverage out of rubber tyresnOr guns out of thumbs...nNegotiated inter-stellar peace talksnMothership transmitting intel on the meatloafnUmmm... It's getting cold, sugar water getting warmnCruising to a future summer, suiting up for civil warnHow? All dressed up like a spider in a cupnHiding tiny butterflies inside his gutnHaving settled down, several thousand miles from his bloodnTo climb and tirelessly high-dive into a spongenSpace invaders through a paper Rita HayworthnTrying to tunnel 'till he ankle deep in pay-dirtnOr halo deep in water...nGlub glub... wondering if runningnIs considered by the people to be cowardly or cunningnn[Hook] (x2)nBoom-er-oomerang, Boom-er-oomerangnBoom-er-oomerang, Boom-er-oomerangnn[Kimya Dawson]nI went east with a hole to fill in my chest.nI went west with it filled: off to build a nest.nI'm impressed. I'm depressed. I'm the best. I'm a mess.nWith a pretty little baby girl upon my breast.nAnd next: progress, twist, turn, digress.nBusy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, never rest.nI missed the rest as you might suspect,nAnd I tried to fly, but my wings are wet.nA kid in the woods, ducked down in the shrubs.nOut of hiding just in time to greet the sun,nSo here I stand with my hand out cast aflame.nI'm sorry that sometimes I'm so lame.nI'm sorry that sometimes I'm a deadbeat friend.nThe worry makes me scurry into my own head.nWith my eyes on the rise, feet where it sets,nSentimental obstacles; of course it's me not them.nn[Aesop Rock]nAll dressed up, like a spider in a cupnI'm four bald tires in the mudnWhen it's diner food or bustnSpiralling a sign of whats to comenWhile pretending I am fine with what I've donenI'm not, but homies that appreciate the crisisnAnd treat 'em like they seen em with a second set of eyelidsnOk, that wasn't fair, admittedly I wasn't therenLong before I volunteered as unabashed, unawarenHow? All dressed up, like a spider in a cupnWho never knew a silence so abruptnWhen the mileage in the middle, turn a siren to a hushnFirst you hate it, then you love it, then you try it as a crutchnLong Island was the hatchery, NYC the wetstonenSharpening the carving knives, foraging for breadcrumbsnI headed west, planned to boomerang backnSidetracked by a trans-continental cage matchnn[Hook] (x2) Less
