Underground_Network
July 31st, 2009, 07:54 PM
Damn it, what happened to logic?
What happened to what was?
Why'd we throw the only thing that ever made sense
Out the window?
The predator just fucked it's prey,
It's offspring is a hideous sight,
It's future will involve some terrible plights,
And this animal, it won't take flight,
Metaphorically or literally.
And yeah, it's standing on the ledge,
The ledge that's not even there,
And it's ready to fucking fall,
Because a mistake was made,
On purpose.
It's an indirect statement,
Aimed directly at a target
That was chosen at random,
But just the same,
Chosen for specific reasons
That mean nothing to most,
But something
To a select few.
And the committee of the defeated,
With their monocles and their serious stares
Leaf through the paper in front of them
Deciding who lives, who dies,
And who has the right to care.
But they lose, as they always do,
And a group of anarchists with no direction
Take control of nothing
And turn it into something.
The fucked up hybrid
Meets the end of the world,
And someone flips the switch
And we fuck oblivion,
And end up somewhere.
Because it's all just logic,
But there is no logic anymore,
When an accident
Is intentional,
And to kill
And to fuck
Are the same damn thing.
So let's do this yet again.
Take your clothes off.
Give me a shotgun.
And a Mark II.
And dance,
In the sun.
Bake,
Burn,
Learn,
What the stakes are,
When you fuck with God
And shoot the sky
JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN.
What happened to what was?
Why'd we throw the only thing that ever made sense
Out the window?
The predator just fucked it's prey,
It's offspring is a hideous sight,
It's future will involve some terrible plights,
And this animal, it won't take flight,
Metaphorically or literally.
And yeah, it's standing on the ledge,
The ledge that's not even there,
And it's ready to fucking fall,
Because a mistake was made,
On purpose.
It's an indirect statement,
Aimed directly at a target
That was chosen at random,
But just the same,
Chosen for specific reasons
That mean nothing to most,
But something
To a select few.
And the committee of the defeated,
With their monocles and their serious stares
Leaf through the paper in front of them
Deciding who lives, who dies,
And who has the right to care.
But they lose, as they always do,
And a group of anarchists with no direction
Take control of nothing
And turn it into something.
The fucked up hybrid
Meets the end of the world,
And someone flips the switch
And we fuck oblivion,
And end up somewhere.
Because it's all just logic,
But there is no logic anymore,
When an accident
Is intentional,
And to kill
And to fuck
Are the same damn thing.
So let's do this yet again.
Take your clothes off.
Give me a shotgun.
And a Mark II.
And dance,
In the sun.
Bake,
Burn,
Learn,
What the stakes are,
When you fuck with God
And shoot the sky
JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN.