the loon goon – faeries, not “fairies” lyrics
(verse 1: the loon goon)
mr. elf, i’ve thrown the magic coin down the wishing well
i’m wishing for another coin so i could throw that sh-t as well
i really miss the smell of pixie dust in dixie cups
and drinking liquid icarus elixir for the pick me ups
the same pattern everyday the same tavern
have a conversation that’s laced up with fake laughter
hung over the day after, and repeat the steps
till i meet my death and go to the place after
b-st-rds, i know the gnomes are stealing my gold
they sneak in my home through holes they leave in my wall
yo, f-ck the fire demon that i leave in my stove
only hot headed cause he keeps a piece of my souls
rap game spriggan, i came out of the woodwork
black plague ridden, my face crawling with wolf worms
have vague visions of snakes hissing the good word
hands raised, singing the same lyrics that shook earth
(hook: sin7ven)
white trees, green leaves, lips on the light breeze
play with your perception like a midsummer night’s dream
his antlers, branch into clandestine hand signs
and plant life enchants my appearance like a faery king
welcome into pan’s pipe my fearsome little cherubim
melting in the black lights while tearing in hysterics and
the hags like telling tales of missing people way
in the quagmires spirited away by a gl-ss lyre
(verse 2: sin7ven)
you can fault me maybe for a lack of will
all i’m sayings i’d prolly trade an angel for a happy meal
holla, on holidays the mage of the enchanted quill
fall from grace into a blossomed cradle full of daffodils
as if i’d be stranded here, the phantom of the stanzas clearly
lack m-ss appeal, packing br-ss into a bandoleer
we’re merely different, different in air quotes
fair folk rappers disappearing into thin air, guillermo
been there, ergo, stay as such
direction f-cking dangerous like sinclair plus angel dust
a gust of wind coulda dealt your deathblow, psyche
the forest claim your bones, should held your head low, like
fay may, vacate your mic and tape, it’s on the lazy side
and on the grading, like a rating out of ten, it’s maybe five
afraid i might impale a shrike cuz lately, i’ve been on my sh-t
a monster on a dead faun, the ravens are all drawn to it
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