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will wood and the tapeworms - black box warrior - okultra lyrics

well he collapsed with stevens+johnson syndrome on the e.r. floor, panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxic
the way he spun his b+tterfly risked all six his phalanges, roman candles at both ends in his synapses
and the method with which he recycled his humors trojan horse’d his blood+brain barrier and raised the ld+50, yes, yes
and through flight+or+fight revelation shame, the black box warrior, he skipped this town and headed straight down history

shields himself from reason in a kevlar baby+blue tuxedo quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers
his ego a mosquito, evil incarnate/good incognito. pops placebos for libido, screaming “bless the torpedoes.”

for what? for what? for what it’s worth, if it was going to k!ll you boy, it would have by now
for what? for what? for what it’s worth, there’s no more looking back, it’s looking up or looking down

well he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose around his lotus jugular when they came
well they found him with a map to every victim of his love and a tattoo of a blue jay on his face
and they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry a hymn out in hungarian harmonic
but he c+cked his noggin, through his stoma sang “for auld lang syne, happy birthday to the succulents, i’ll die your hydroponics.”
his rib cage was a h+rnet’s nest. palpitations set the beat. his vagus nerve a turk’s head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend
he wondered if christ+consciousness would charge a cancellation fee. auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

h+llo, welcome. why don’t you take a seat? get comfortable, take a second if you need to. now what’s bothering you? well, why don’t we start at the beginning?
growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence? did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your blooming escher/mandelbrot head? and how about claustrophilic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven+knuckle thumbs, did you get along well with the gideon bugler pineal glands, your projector eyes casting sci+fi’s on your str’d strands? tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under bacchus’ bl++dy nose. did namibian himbas tie+dye you, your ears pierced with a phineas gage flagpole, did you die before your day?
thursday traction, tuesday titration. my hope is to assess through my objective report of your subjective conjecture whether this proprietary bled of expertise and seasoning works as well as this transorbital ice pick
holistic ballistics, you got a better idea? it’s about the best we could come up with. what, you think ideas spread because they’re good? no, they spread because people like them. so now here we are once again. holding, as it were, a mirror up to your mirror
i guess it’s just something people do
a bl++dy knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function, coital machinations of the dead
well you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus and learn to be an animal instead
but i never did think you better than this, your modus operandi causes n+z+/skoptzyism and suicide
why to thine own self be try when it is you who are the problem, not the things you do but something sick inside
lithium and dialectics, boy you really is defective. cbt don’t seem effective for that cl+ster b, accept it. offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects. you’ve lost your mind and almost lost your life before
so you’ll be fine

for what? for what? for what it’s worth, if it was going to k!ll you boy, it would have by now
for what? for what? for what it’s worth, there’s no more looking back, no it’s no good looking back so try to look forward now
for what? for what? for what it’s worth, if they were gonna get you boy, they would have by now
for what? for what? for what it’s worth, there’s no more looking back, it’s looking up or looking down

- will wood and the tapeworms lyrics

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