I never don't float with the four winds
Sweat cold, piss warm, make war films
No doors on the forcefield, radio ahead
I log any palpitation of the web
Whether aphid or angel of death
Entertainment or threat
By the end, you're a savory crepe
Models that mar every orbit and corner, it's horrid
There's more exhibition than voyeur, oh boy
Cold dawn mist incarnate
Every day, I wake up in a different carcass
If I climb out quiet I'm myth before tea
I see no need to initial the tree
I seem to have run out of skin on my teeth
I look like I feel like a fish in a beak
I look like a dick in my picture ID
But also the pic isn't me, huh

Sideways rain that chew the zoo up
Okay losing a shoe in the mud
Okay losing a shoe in the mud
Okay losing a shoe in the mud
Sideways rain that chew the roof through
Home by twelve o'clock in two shoes
Home by twelve o'clock in two shoes
Home by twelve o'clock in two shoes

If he cultivate the grit that make a foal deface the brick
That make a bolt escape the fist
Some days on the road to make, he miss
And make the whole of the probe equate to piss
Blood rain, I'm a phase of the forecast
Storm through space like a blade through stored fat
Graze over the gate in the gore-fest
Ain't really play to the neighborly format
Great, baited adventuring out of his norm is a lesson in mapping the doors
Anything more in the lap of the gods
Anything less an imbalance ignored
Seems like even the ragtag grab bag
Raise eyebrows when your rat pack quack quack
Spitfires that kiss the pitch dark
He rows a big oar
He spins a grim yarn

[Chorus]
Sideways rain that chew the zoo up
Okay losing a shoe in the mud
Okay losing a shoe in the mud
Okay losing a shoe in the mud
Sideways rain that chew the roof through
Home by twelve o'clock in two shoes
Home by twelve o'clock in two shoes
Home by twelve o'clock in two shoes
Sideways rain that chew the zoo up
Okay losing a shoe in the mud
Okay losing a shoe in the mud
Okay losing a shoe in the mud
Sideways rain that chew the roof through
Home by twelve o'clock in two shoes
Home by twelve o'clock in two shoes
Home

The one with the red cross sprayed on the door and a mountain of mail on the porch
The one with the pit trap cloaked in the grass and a thick black smoke from the cracks
The one with the werewolf chained to a tree and a circle of flames at your feet
The one with the ominous regional lore
Why? Which one's yours?
Ignore that, don't care
Toast the march of uncombed hair
It came from beyond the red coals and road flares
XO, bring his own moat to the social
I'm so stand offish, nobody's host cell
Don't, just just just just don't
Pulled to the flames while pushed to the rope
I get the hooks in, I hold the helm down
I stand the hell up, I see myself out