SSRIs - Clay-Faced Meat Boots Lyrics
Clay faced, meat boots, early morning.Big man, big gun, calling card.Jingle, jangle, marching music.Siren, slogan, funeral song.Talking, talking, talking outFoul mouthed, temper tantrum,Foolish little boy making things out of words.Hiding stars with makeup.The future will expose us.I’m turning myself in.I’m turning myself in.Once upon a timeYou fell down a hole.Got tricked into thinkingThat you’re made out of gold.You’re looking for answers, well look to nature.Chimps eat each other, yeah chimps eat each other.Hey you feudal, high rolling conquistador,Get out of yourself, get out of yourself.Hey you worry wart, technocratic isolate,Get out of yourself, get out of yourself.Hey you careless garbage inventor,Get out of yourself, get out of yourself.Hey you blue man, badge in hand stressor.Get out of yourself, get out of yourself.