MAY THE DAYS BE AIMLESS

Lyrics

[Verse 1: milo] Dead people don't watch me like paparazzi And there's no afterlife where they pop, lock and knock knees The dead have a presence I could post it in a sentence Dying is not a lived event Your life insurance plan would have been better spent on your son's little league tournament You whisper Necronomicon when you've never heard of it I'm in the front pew reciting lines that I heard from the Silver Jews through a Yoni wolf verse, like: "In 1984 I was hospitalized for approaching perfection" My stomach hurts I look like a cat burglar Conversations are so hard I don't want to have Aspergers I want to eat veggie burger sandwiches on sesame seed buns And watch Sesame Street reruns I want to console myself with energy from my childhood So I started gardening and asked questions only a child could Computers make mistakes because of carpet static I make mistakes and then go fart in the attic Death marks the end of uneventful things I've hidden so many facts in my precognitive functions If I could unlock that map that would really be something (Something, something) [Chorus] May the days be aimless, let the seasons drift Do not advance the action according to a plan May the days be aimless, let the seasons drift Do not advance the action according to a plan May the days be aimless, let the seasons drift Do not advance the action according to a plan May the drift be action, let the plans be aimless Do not season days according to advance [Verse 2: WC Tank] I borrowed a dollar to purchase a pillow at Yvonne Rainer's Garage Sale I walked into the desert and saw a mirage of a floating whale And forgot to care and bought a flash flare Took a triple dog dare to literally firefight an autobiographical life crisis in mid-air Car lights on night walks through rain windows make great events For sane people in hot tubs Make great events for sane people in cartoons Angels crying at funny angles forming parenthetical clouds Subdivide pyramids, pour light through clear liquid Peer through a clearing, paint the path vivid Two signs devise on either side of the divide My feet both asleep and I'm sitting in a tree Used to be a mystery all about the energy Mother of invention, cross through dimensions Focused attention, perfect penmanship, cycles of self-censorship Subvert the space to refract the active layer Reverse the ray mache to make paper Plaster of Paris to rasterize layers, cast the right players, pastors, and mayors Divinate crashes on flash drive prayers Fall fast height-wise on invisible winding stairs Toward a light hydrant, a blinding flare