The Rotting Game
I is so into my anger, I is so into my joy
Either everyone's suicidal
Or as happy as a box o' toys
Tell me girls
Tell me boys
Do you want to save the world
Or do you want to blow it up
Send me to the sky
The bombs are on their way
Do you have a car? Another way to get around?
Could you leave home in an hour if the bombs were on their way
Somtimes I feel like an animal
Caught in the headlights as your fender sends me to the sky
I land in a meadow where a thousand bunny rabbits lie
Flattened & bloody by the tires of your town
It's like they're watching except their eyes stopped watching anything
Except the rotting process long ago
You've got a truck and an identity
I've got my dental records and a tattoo on my arm
All my new friends don't have tattoos anywhere
They don't talk much; they don't poop or reproduce or get alarmed
Maybe 'rabbits' is too strong of a word to use
They're more like little furry frisbees rotting in the sun
I love the games we always play together
I lie there decomposing but they're always ahead
My doctor says I need to get some exercise so I don't die
I keep getting distracted 'cause I'm old & fat & rich & white
What the hell is coming toward me?
I've got expensive shoes so people can see me when I run at night
I've got my mylar headband to reflect upon their bright headlights
What the hell is coming toward me?
Either everyone's suicidal
Or as happy as a box o' toys
Tell me girls
Tell me boys
Do you want to save the world
Or do you want to blow it up
Send me to the sky
The bombs are on their way
Do you have a car? Another way to get around?
Could you leave home in an hour if the bombs were on their way
Somtimes I feel like an animal
Caught in the headlights as your fender sends me to the sky
I land in a meadow where a thousand bunny rabbits lie
Flattened & bloody by the tires of your town
It's like they're watching except their eyes stopped watching anything
Except the rotting process long ago
You've got a truck and an identity
I've got my dental records and a tattoo on my arm
All my new friends don't have tattoos anywhere
They don't talk much; they don't poop or reproduce or get alarmed
Maybe 'rabbits' is too strong of a word to use
They're more like little furry frisbees rotting in the sun
I love the games we always play together
I lie there decomposing but they're always ahead
My doctor says I need to get some exercise so I don't die
I keep getting distracted 'cause I'm old & fat & rich & white
What the hell is coming toward me?
I've got expensive shoes so people can see me when I run at night
I've got my mylar headband to reflect upon their bright headlights
What the hell is coming toward me?