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nick zazove - macguffin lyrics

[verse 1]
i met a guy hanes out of atomic clock contrivance
the lighter-pliant tyrants line the highlands like the virus
a pious riot ferments where the ulcers first denied it
then sheep dipped where stygian catchwords usurp the finance
i race a thin line between the black and whitest byp-ss
the l caught daily rhythms, next a prism’s rightist tripe claques
tendrils h–rd memory lane’s underp-ss, the troll tolls
for slashdot district tokens jiving cancer into wedlock
penny ante, mortal! preach a revelation’s war-piece
to the cheap peasant who sows the concrete’s anathemic glory
you vellicate a vorhees in the bellyache, the forged eve-
desquamated at a morgue fleeced to epilate for antiques-
from the camp green, amus-m-nt park where suits tie up the canteens
my only sin: i peculate from little lucy’s panties
when h-llraisers sliced through all the wires in this straightjacket
clay tablets spring out of the underground, names backwards

[bridge]
spinal tap mondays, soak the moonshine with some rags to rich
endowments craned through tuesdays with a crowbar ripping ads from pigs
wednesdays riding tides shaped like hieroglyphs through quaggy deserts
thanksgiving peddled to inertia through the static shepherd
friday nights festering in robes stolen from arthur
“step into the eschar”, sat-rday in the cardboard
sunday march to heaven’s gates with disbelief and scepters
then back to monday pulling levers, eating duds, and band-aids

[verse 2]
from the texture, my lesser side in ancient forms of pyro
juggling my name inside another sordid biro
the ink contains a parable of spotlight and revival
linked with recycled recital repurposed for reprisal
relinquished at the vein, don’t need a f-ck to give to game
as mistaken for a face i carved from gorgar in my bargain bas-m-nt-
credo, badenov to nietsche, camelot
to gamelan, van winkle with chi, worship the plastic rom
comm-link to jesters at the shiver-isles, vesturing
a credence with a backdrop, the hero sees my cap-stock
so plato’s cave’s a bear trap in quicksand with padlocks
to ground me at the zero-pay, fear inveighed, standoff
none stay, these footprints tell me lemmings are their shadows
but miracles display a sense of backbone, so tell me-
is it that woke? the world’s a godless phony of its image
underneath the scrimmage, pilgrims etch their purpose into shrinkage

[bridge]
spinal tap mondays, wash the blood off at niagara falls
endowments craned through tuesdays with a wormhole to the marbled halls
wednesdays riding tides into battle from the narc bazaar
thanksgiving peddled through a permanence of stars invested
friday nights sequestering in tunics scr-pped from emblems
“step into the eschar”, sat-rday in the armoire
sunday march to heaven’s gates with ragtag knuckles art-warped
to monday pulling warlocks out the psyche through the cardboard

- nick zazove lyrics

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