Song: GPS Global Positioning Syndrome
Viewed: 90 - Published at: 6 years ago
Artist: Flight Distance
Year: 2005Viewed: 90 - Published at: 6 years ago
[Verse 1: Patience]
Like Max Cohen with his drill but, to the brain`s language section
Lyric well run dry, in the absence of gang connections
Thankless sessions of pleasing crowds wound on a relic hunt
I`m pluggin` pelicans off, mid-flight with a pellet gun
Flourish a burner not to criticize until it dries
Paint with every ounce of strength `til we witness vanilla skies manifest
My home`s a drone-echo in radiowaves
Damaged flesh, torn tissue, despair, let go to fade it away
Tainted air got used to me, I`m used to useless attempts at health
Lung pinky, achy heart, quelle surprise of when it swells
Balloon economy gas faced metropolis consumed in smoggy aftertaste
Exacerbate a cavalcade amazed as breathing masturbates
Nitrous oxide global scale shared `til evaporate ponder cosmos
Not so two one six dependent six one three marked off and fog soaked
Void giant osmosis neon colourless fuckin` tasteless substances
Loveless Patience, hopeless romance, dances above the sustenance
I`ve had enough of this, fed up with this dirty smog clogged blocked drained mute tongued esophagus
Awkwardness consumed ugly pig busted populous
Hindering town that hates me back so I`m off to where the trees speak
I`m off into a deep sleep where everything`s not so 3D
Fuck you awareness, time and time again you`ve made me embarrassed
Stare at the sun, 3:18 here we go, drill, trigger up, tear this
[Verse 2: Bender]
Livin` one step up from cardboard in the cinder block district
With the cubist ruins of the Jenga towers off loomin` in the distance
Smog valley salt pillars a quick Ikea infrastructure
And OC Transpo gridlocked in rush hour, smothered from the suburbs
So I take the Canal out of town and breathe through reeds for the stretch
Dismal driftwood watchin` chimneys play Vesuvius overhead
I realize civilization is fortune lost
Just in time to see a Pepsi-Cola sunrise barely pushin` 40 watts
Figured out gazing stars on any given night`s rare
A blind stare resulting in chiropractic nightmares and filing cabinet tenements
Fourth course the deficit's collecting soon, it sets the mood
Gonna find an ant hill plagued with residue from better fumes to settle in
Black market baby heartache
A habitat that feeds off humans in between landfills of shit with Christmas gifts for peacock plumage
City limits where it`s `thumbs up` at highway exits
Passed by 9-11 fire engines set to potential threats of bio weapons and whatever else
Forget the answers, what I need to find's a driving question
Or see the slightest hint of masterpiece removed during the final edit
Flickering crosswalks, stuttering, reminisce destroyed epiphanies
Zoning permits drove the hermits from their shells, the spoils of industry
I`m sick of these walls scrawled with cookie cutter tags and toy calligraphy
Miserable demographic growing with the times, my voice is withering
Gimme a cough drop and a barricade, lock on my door is broken
Humming halogen give serenades to calm the agoraphobic
These are strange days, it`s been tough to find a roomie
6-13, living on the ugly side of beauty
Like Max Cohen with his drill but, to the brain`s language section
Lyric well run dry, in the absence of gang connections
Thankless sessions of pleasing crowds wound on a relic hunt
I`m pluggin` pelicans off, mid-flight with a pellet gun
Flourish a burner not to criticize until it dries
Paint with every ounce of strength `til we witness vanilla skies manifest
My home`s a drone-echo in radiowaves
Damaged flesh, torn tissue, despair, let go to fade it away
Tainted air got used to me, I`m used to useless attempts at health
Lung pinky, achy heart, quelle surprise of when it swells
Balloon economy gas faced metropolis consumed in smoggy aftertaste
Exacerbate a cavalcade amazed as breathing masturbates
Nitrous oxide global scale shared `til evaporate ponder cosmos
Not so two one six dependent six one three marked off and fog soaked
Void giant osmosis neon colourless fuckin` tasteless substances
Loveless Patience, hopeless romance, dances above the sustenance
I`ve had enough of this, fed up with this dirty smog clogged blocked drained mute tongued esophagus
Awkwardness consumed ugly pig busted populous
Hindering town that hates me back so I`m off to where the trees speak
I`m off into a deep sleep where everything`s not so 3D
Fuck you awareness, time and time again you`ve made me embarrassed
Stare at the sun, 3:18 here we go, drill, trigger up, tear this
[Verse 2: Bender]
Livin` one step up from cardboard in the cinder block district
With the cubist ruins of the Jenga towers off loomin` in the distance
Smog valley salt pillars a quick Ikea infrastructure
And OC Transpo gridlocked in rush hour, smothered from the suburbs
So I take the Canal out of town and breathe through reeds for the stretch
Dismal driftwood watchin` chimneys play Vesuvius overhead
I realize civilization is fortune lost
Just in time to see a Pepsi-Cola sunrise barely pushin` 40 watts
Figured out gazing stars on any given night`s rare
A blind stare resulting in chiropractic nightmares and filing cabinet tenements
Fourth course the deficit's collecting soon, it sets the mood
Gonna find an ant hill plagued with residue from better fumes to settle in
Black market baby heartache
A habitat that feeds off humans in between landfills of shit with Christmas gifts for peacock plumage
City limits where it`s `thumbs up` at highway exits
Passed by 9-11 fire engines set to potential threats of bio weapons and whatever else
Forget the answers, what I need to find's a driving question
Or see the slightest hint of masterpiece removed during the final edit
Flickering crosswalks, stuttering, reminisce destroyed epiphanies
Zoning permits drove the hermits from their shells, the spoils of industry
I`m sick of these walls scrawled with cookie cutter tags and toy calligraphy
Miserable demographic growing with the times, my voice is withering
Gimme a cough drop and a barricade, lock on my door is broken
Humming halogen give serenades to calm the agoraphobic
These are strange days, it`s been tough to find a roomie
6-13, living on the ugly side of beauty
( Flight Distance )
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