Dreamsleep (feat. Cecil Otter) - Sims

Break the wiring harness, stop the cameras

Snakes are firing arms and block the answers

Clouded plots blow spots with robot newscasters

After two masters shoot whispers through roof rafters

Pass it on to the next master gone street merchant

Next person to purchase a version of these freak’s words

And playtime might make time stand still

Saluting riots and looting, it’s a primetime kill

Take me back to the way it used to be

Usually move my feet, now I stand still

While your will chooses defeat

Chew some pills so you can sleep

Only to wake to 9 to 5 to life and can’t escape your fate, right?

Turn on your break lights and turn left wing

Let’s sing «Swing Low, Sweet Chariot»

And carry it to the burial ground around the corner

Warm your order forms born from your shorter thorns

Torn from your garden

Choose your corporate credit card

While the senate scars the tenants

Lieutenants mar the menace peasants

While the medic yawns and turns his head in pillow dreams

20,00 leagues deep in American Dream sleep soliloquies

Killing me with free speech

Impediment residents don’t know a goddamn thing

About the irrelevant tenements

I’m not dancing

To the ranting and raving

Paving paths past the mating season

Leaving dreamers breeding in the land of the lost

You’re dreaming

When the saints go marching in I’ll market them to demons

Can you pull this cannibalist out of the animal’s fist

With a Hannibalistic wit, you’ll fit me in your schedule

Hidden in your incredible edible head full of skull snaps

That’s that for the dull raps

And I see you knocking back cheap bourbon

You’re fucking knees hurting and you can’t be a complete person

Cause that sheet’s certain to make a stereotype

Paper Tiger keeps the stereo tight, I make the burial rights

I was buried alive riding merry-go-rounds around the burial grounds

Lounging in the fucking lap of luxury

Like ooh, barracuda

I could swear that you were in the school, who bears the fruit of their labor

Fuck that pay dirt, got me reaching for the razor

This one’s for the racist that mocks the caged bird

The one that gives my dumb skull crumbs for a day’s work

That’s why I write a song about fire bombs, fuck Viacom

Sing me a song that’s long and meaningful

Pull me into your premise baby make me want it bad news

Sad moves, truth is a monsoon

Dressed up in costumes on Fox News

Let me mock you to sleep sleepy headbanger

Got to wait your turn to earn your turn through the turnstile

Schemes form four peace wars with taskforce

For more resources for gas whores

You’re dreaming