versuri 08 bathroom break - time magicians

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well, the way i see it is: the question isn’t why should you work for the nsa? question is why shouldn’t you?
why shouldn’t i work for the n.s.a.? that’s a tough one, but i’ll take a shot. say i’m working at n.s.a. somebody puts a code on my desk, something n0body else can break. maybe i take a shot at it and maybe i break it. and i’m real happy with myself, cause i did my job well. but maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in north africa or the middle east. once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people i never met, never had no problem with, get k!lled. now the politicians are sayin’, “oh, send in the marines to secure the area” cause they don’t give a sh-t. it won’t be their kid over there, gettin’ shot. just like it wasn’t them when their number got called, cause they were pullin’ a tour in the national guard. it’ll be some kid from southie takin’ shrapnel in the -ss

and he comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. and the guy who put the shrapnel in his -ss got his old job, cause he’ll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. meanwhile, he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. and, of course, the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. a cute little ancillary benefit for them, but it ain’t helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon

and they’re takin’ their sweet time bringin’ the oil back, of course, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and f-ckin’ play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain’t too long ’til he hits one, spills the oil and k!lls all the sea life in the north atlantic. so now my buddy’s out of work and he can’t afford to drive, so he’s got to walk to the f-ckin’ job interviews, which sucks cause the shrapnel in his -ss is givin’ him chronic hemorrhoids. and meanwhile he’s starvin’, cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat, the only blue plate special they’re servin’ is north atlantic scrod with quaker state. so what did i think? i’m holdin’ out for somethin’ better

kind words lost on the deaf man
lost [?] they were dropped by the deck hand
lone misery lost in the ocean
lost in the pits better rub on the lotion

the white lines [?] prodigy
slaughtery biology like he f-ckin’ oughtta be
a little vomiting and a little swallowing
[?] drama me they were off to the point that’s calling me
(calling me) x2
yeah b-tch
(calling me) x3

hunting good will for a real long time now
all’s fair in love and war she’s f-cking mine now
come to cl-ss high
yeah school’s such a ch0r- now
these r-t-rds and b-cards are such a f-cking bore now
failure tastes nice with vodka and ice
gettin’ so stupid off miller high life
i’m missin’ my life it’s a high price to pay
get off my d-ck cause you rub it the wrong way

your rap’s translucent
f-ck the faculty like bomb’s away
holdin’ out for something better
shrapnel in your -ssh0l- in the back door shredder

i’m tired of getting hit by barrages of wack sh-t
turns a blind eye bandit’s hands on the prizes
and when he starts to rhyme your demise is decided

so ride with a side-kick
and roll the low-blows
your flow is so-so
and mine is so dope
[?] zero
but oh no direct hits in the dojo

could be a wreck from the [?] but he’s no show
oh sh-t
cops are here so stay hidden

i’m recreating life all though the preface is forbidden
but with the equivalent exchange every sin is forgiven

got beef?!
where’s the f-cking cattle at?!
yeah love’s blind i’ve stared into her cataracts
she rides around in a black cadillac
and if you cross her in the trunk there’s a battle axe

land mines lying in silence
double checking methods and their glutton for violence

that’s a sound a tw-t makes whipping a segway
you wonder how he lost weight?

and he’s baking so you ask if he got cake
get lost!
b-tch i’m an osprey
how he’s so cold on such a hot date
oh, that’s the question
well bomb’s a-f-cking-way

on the futon he’s an animal
cookin’ up croutons jizzing out danimals
hannibal lecter’s so territorial
rolling up with bombs to the vietnam memorial

i figure f-ck it, while i’m at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the national guard? i could be elected president

- versuri time magicians

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