One Lonely Owl

Lyrics

[Verse 1] In the middle of a bad dream I ask whoever is filming not to stop I don't know what a nightmare is called when I am napping during the day Or if I am awake But I'm guessing it's really all the same I enter this hole of self-pity Which is really housing another hole Of self loathing Which reveals itself as a sea Of utter contempt and I Am now floating The closest I came to knowing God was being caught in a rowing shell on the Fox River during a wicked storm I looked into God's eyes, and they were gray-- Like my favorite woolen sweater, thrice worn and thrifted I guess at heart, I'm a materialist People often ask me what it's like to fly the coop Budding ornithologists are weary of tired analogies I want to be a writer, if given the chance I would write a novel for every pretty girl that let me kiss her And another for the all-seeing eye of her big sister Rain drops smooched my hair soft Your kisses were distinct like welts from an airsoft I've never wore a tie that didn't come from the thrift store Before I was a vegetarian, I should've fished more I wonder if the pizza in heaven tastes better than here My spidey-sense tingles whenever Eddie Vedder is near I've never done anything impressive because being remembered as a headline would be delineating I've never really wanted to be remembered When Robert died, I was in a bookstore that wasn't born yet And all around me spun the narratives of other fallen heroes Dust! Dust! Dust! Dust on the tomes of the stories of yesterday; Dust on the tombs of the heroes of today Dust Dust Dust I miss you [Verse 2] Do you like your raps sung by a prettier gent Who fornicates copiously with a prosthetic wench? I'll fade into oblivion when my prophecy's spent In a megaplex guessing where my office copies were lent Now I, never was ever the best break dancer And you'll never hear my name on your CB police scanner But I can hoist my Braveheart-esque banner to the moon And create much havoc in a small-town, college kid's room Hip hop's grand prize is a following of nasty MILFs Who understitched their lonely son's Eagle Scout quilts Which explains why the lad is so passive-aggressive And hastily labeled my press kit massively unimpressive *one breath* [Verse 3] I was farmed for my similarity to a Duracell battery And quickly abandoned at a calculator factory I'm no Wizard of Waverly But I wear second hand goods like they were made for me I went to school to become a philosopher But dropped out to be a sober Kid Cudi imposter With a spoon that's porous, I lounge in Siberia Dining on borscht with Boris My mind has the drive of an old Ford Taurus Unfortunately my mind has no roads: it's just a forest Rap's Kurt Vonnegut, Blurb Fontset [Verse 4] For you I would cross the infinite sea of midpoints And eat french fries at your favorite cheeseburger joint When we're old, please call me if you crack your diskjoint I might be busy keeping these rhymes on point Catch me rapping in your favorite restaurant's senior citizen line Dropping wizened rhymes About the fall of Byzantine I said catch me rapping in your favorite restaurant's senior citizen line Dropping wizened rhymes About the fall of Byzantine [Verse 5] I'm an old man eating Zatarain's with cataracts Worrying about matching my afghans with my stocking caps A trip to the restroom can last me a couple hours I remember when folks thought MCs had divine powers Pretending we were Word Wizards and Conjurers; TV told us we were murderers on the lam from their officers In many ways I'm this culture's premiere historian I told a young man at the bus stop and he said I was borin' him Now I'm in the arts and crafts room at this old nursing home Cutting out hearts from the same cardboard I danced upon I couldn't possibly put to words how depressed I am Every week I look forward to hearing the Funkmaster's Jam I made some notes for what else I could blab about The other night, I told my bed nurse I was swagged out She put me in my place fast, responding "Why can't you wipe your own ass?" Damn