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miles cooke - oneiromancy lyrics

inherited the foul karma
brooklyn absolutists to the bronx bombers
route 66 to where the angels sleeping
etched into the night sky: i love lucy
stayed with a tv dinner
first time caller
what’s the new dilemma?
s.o.s. man of the house burning
off brand matchbooks at the commencement party
front page placing made it sound urgent
the moments tattooed on my forearm forever
glimpse of americana
wake work sleep and never found purpose
apostatize thе mission for the world’s stages
poverty production linе to a white collar moxie engagement
where all the corporate refugees remained faceless
had relief, reform, recovery hanging with the one size fitted for maintenance

just trying to keep the roof over my head daily
basic needs can’t be expected
crazy you would even think it when you see the paychecks
rock the born again until it’s habit forming
or when reading tea leaves starts to lose it’s entertainment
facing those with penchant for subservience is so invigorating
and i ain’t even judging make it past the jakes
you still got big brother waiting
with eyes rolling to the back
follow marching orders till they call em patriots

tell em bring more guns in
shoot em in the back while they running
new snuff film lets make it public
y’all having fun yet?
the american dream beneath the sunset

awaken at the last slip of the sun
i slept through the rapture
all roads led to the same place
the thrill of victory fading
anchored but the tapestries assimilating
i’ll expedite the process on some
window pane perforated paper
welcome home in america
allegiance to the manufactured scarcity
the lemmings start acting like the own the place
face through the looking+glass mainstay
honor where every eye witness scrutinized
and sullen stole the cognizance of agency
unscathed’ll be the leaders of depravity
charge it to the black card
denoted through your interests
thanks for banking with me
worthless merits. yup you gotta pay with privilege
or the bills stack higher than ambition
three fifths comp to a bespoke prison
bombing through your continent the only true religion
honest more in common with the euphemisms
and the f+ck you wages is how they glue the system
all sales final. everything’s a gimmick
dichotomy of stress in every breath and we don’t need specifics
right hand to god justice personified
left hand a permit for concealing
the discourse a litany of excuses
feign a reach across the aisle
then a call for healing

- miles cooke lyrics

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