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whysir - proceed with caution lyrics

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[hook: whysir]
see you on your screens in hallways pacing, waiting, hating, watching
don’t know what has got you seething
in this scene, proceed with caution
every single person is a victim
to the pace and volume
seeping into all we see
imaginary streams are crossing

[verse 1: whysir]
circulation through our fingertips
we like to poke and prod them
social media defeat
could get popped if you ain’t poppin’
dripping out the eyes, nose
we have no knowledge of the problem
when we grow, we learn it’s so
and won’t wash out with any solvent

surf it like a champ
you’ve got to chomp the chewy crust of logic
anyone can read thе riddle
hard part is we gotta solve it
got you doing jumping jacks
and worshipping thе crazy puppets
facetime with supposed “dads”
who just aren’t pumped that you ain’t grown yet
unfold into fading fads
we pack it up with bows and laces
know we lose humanity
and overflow with frowns on faces
things out have been getting bad
since long before our generation
and there is no turning back
as some burn bridge for their pleasure

under guise of circumstance
we leech away in leisure
at the ankles of the giants
that could not care if we eat or sleep here
pumping brakes as cliff’s edge comes
we wish that we could bail out
but the garbage left out in the road
all threatens to impale us

so we work our knuckles to the bone
at day jobs for a handout
over+deserved, under pressure
we’re their dog that’s chasing tail now
wish to catch it and to rest
but gotta get it while it’s still there
and it’s close enough that you can smell
at least that’s what they tell you
so you rush into a contract
sign the line and see tomorrow
all the getting takes a lot from us
and it for sure will scar you
could have learned a lot in nature
been a hunter or a farmer
instead, most hunt for bargains
or play around on farmville

[hook: whysir]
see you on your screens in hallways pacing, waiting, hating, watching
don’t know what has got you seething
in this scene, proceed with caution
every single person is a victim
to the pace and volume
seeping into all we see
imaginary streams are crossing



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