Deaf blind granite block content to graze
with familiar stock A local
lard not an english black
we don't venture into the fog
Homeward bound and
gagged not twenty steps from the door
Dispensable as cooks at sea or
journalists sent to war
No one found me spellbinding
no one offered me a
drink But by crippled hands
at the potters wheel
I was given shape and
insects appeal Sent to work
the graveryard shift at heaven's
JDC A legend to
the peasants there but lights
had caught me unaware
I've wandered into your
graces so how do
I get out It's been quiet for
too long but pompous phrases
and alarms can't help you now
And every pervert outside
of every fence has had
his fill of your kids
He's clocking out
Such indecisive crusaders
A martyr made into a scenic blur
A lookout into a left behind
What wounded pride No
one finds me spellbinding
No ones buying me a drink
I've been to the lions
Left high and dry by the 8th
circle of hell Where are the spoils
I want the ticker tape parade
Damn these filthy rats
Deaf blind granite block content to graze
with familiar stock A local
lard not an english black
we don't venture into the fog
Homeward bound and
gagged not twenty steps from the door
Dispensable as cooks at sea or
journalists sent to war
No one found me spellbinding
no one offered me a
drink But by crippled hands
at the potters wheel
I was given shape and
insects appeal Sent to work
the graveryard shift at heaven's
JDC A legend to
the peasants there but lights
had caught me unaware
I've wandered into your
graces so how do
I get out It's been quiet for
too long but pompous phrases
and alarms can't help you now
And every pervert outside
of every fence has had
his fill of your kids
He's clocking out
Such indecisive crusaders
A martyr made into a scenic blur
A lookout into a left behind
What wounded pride No
one finds me spellbinding
No ones buying me a drink
I've been to the lions
Left high and dry by the 8th
circle of hell Where are the spoils
I want the ticker tape parade
Damn these filthy rats
Deaf blind granite block content to graze
with familiar stock A local
lard not an english black
we don't venture into the fog
Homeward bound and
gagged not twenty steps from the door
Dispensable as cooks at sea or
journalists sent to war
No one found me spellbinding
no one offered me a
drink But by crippled hands
at the potters wheel
I was given shape and
insects appeal Sent to work
the graveryard shift at heaven's
JDC A legend to
the peasants there but lights
had caught me unaware
I've wandered into your
graces so how do
I get out It's been quiet for
too long but pompous phrases
and alarms can't help you now
And every pervert outside
of every fence has had
his fill of your kids
He's clocking out
Such indecisive crusaders
A martyr made into a scenic blur
A lookout into a left behind
What wounded pride No
one finds me spellbinding
No ones buying me a drink
I've been to the lions
Left high and dry by the 8th
circle of hell Where are the spoils
I want the ticker tape parade
Damn these filthy rats