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Song title: The Uncluded - Boomerang

Edit By: 216.73.216.128

[Kimya Dawson]

[Aesop Rock]
All dressed up, like a spider in a cup/
Entirely divided from his hub/
Addressing injuries commissioned by the southern? county briar?/
Whien building coverage out of rubber tyres/
... to the thumbs...
Negotiated inter-stellar peace talks/
Mothership transmitting intel on the meatloaf/
Ummm... It's getting cold, sugar water getting warm/
Cruising to a future summer, suiting up for civil war/
How? All dressed up like a spider in a cup/
Hiding tiny butterflies inside his gut/
Having settled down, several thousand miles from his blood/
To climb in tirelessly, hide, dive into a sponge/
Space invaders to a paper Rita Hayworth/
Trying to tunnel 'till he ankle deep in Pater?/
Or halo deep in water.../
Glub glub... wondering if running/
Is considered by the people to be cowardly or cunning/

[Hook]
Boomeroomerang, Boomeroomerang, Boomeroomerang, Boomeroomerang x2

[Kimya Dawson]

[Aesop Rock]
All dressed up, like a spider in a cup/
I'm four balled tyred in the mud/
When it's diner food or bust/
Spiralling a sign of whats to come/
While pretending I am fine with what I've done/
I'm not, but homies that appreciate the crisis/
And treat 'em like they seen em with a second set of eyelids/
Ok, that wasn't fair, admittedly I wasn't there/
Long before I volunteered as unabashed, unaware/
How? All dressed up, like a spider in a cup/
Who never knew a silence so abrupt/
When the mileage in the middle, turn a siren to a hush/
First you hate it, then you love it, then you try it as a crutch/
Long Island was the hatchery, NYC the wet stone/
Sharpening the carving knives, foraging for breadcrumbs/
I headed west, planned to boomerang back/
Sidetracked by a trans-continental cage match/

[Hook]Annotate