Paroles Mr. Blessington's Imperialist Plot de Astronautalis

Textes et Paroles de Mr. Blessington's Imperialist Plot

pretty patricia was a nervous wreckdeadened by the darvocetfurnished by a charlatainposing as a pharmacistpropped behind a pearly deskshe wears the phone with burdened breathand hands she holds for reasons wantonis the whilring dervish gamesthis is just the receptionistthe skeletons and hallowed halls number of every wordcould be buzzing right through the sunny comband I am just a lonely dronewith a notepad and a picture phonewhose nectar is a collection of transgressions and subversive flawsdarrell's darling carries all of hr on his backCan only hide gisette because the fetish waftings of croquettesWell mrs darla's down the hallShe keeps a watchful eyeIts on accounts receivableLeaving it blind to the concubineLady darla's not the cleanestgrape inside the cropsShe keeps her eyes inside accountantsas she skims right off the topher saccharine little skins of creamshe sneaks out in her hosieryto hopefully she pumps the petty plunder in the slotsevery now and thenthe best laid plans of mice and menfall apart at handsof unassuming championscollecting all the dirtto build a tower to the skyslaving in this basementone day this will all be mineone day this will all be mineone day this will all be mineshe was so outwardly nonpareilI was enraptured by the actOf cracking her seamless shellCatching esteban with hand in his till is muy facilBut this girl's skills are past the run of the millWe command with abandon the plotTake what he gotsetting up shop with a cloud 8 view at the topAnd everybody's got bonesHers are harder to spotWith her appointments pinned down and her hair done upDevote everything that I've gotTo stalking her boxTheres got to be a fracture in her porcelain plotThat's where I slipped upLost in her washShe doubled back upon her tracks and caught me off guardShe's impossibly smartI am defeated at my own gameCaught me collecting dirtTo blackmail them for my own gainA tower made of dirtIs just a castle built from glassAnd a pocket full of stones until the last one's castevery now and thenthe best laid plans of mice and menfall apart at handsof unassuming championscollecting so much dirtthat I was buried down aliveslaving in this basementtil the day I dietil the day I dietil the day I die

C'était les paroles de Mr. Blessington's Imperialist Plot
Voir les autres titres de Astronautalis.