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lyrics

1. I’m out of all doors, down on all fours,
Just give me a landmark to crawl towards.
Low-lifes living in varied environments,
Most survivors aren’t survivalists.
The way we act, you can tell we’ve not rehearsed.
I never kick a door down without trying the knob first.
I’ve never kicked any doors down, just knocked more,
And given up and left when my knuckles got sore.
Are you living on a prayer or preying on a life?
I won’t fall on my sword, but might lay on my knife
If I feel like the sacrifice will garner the appropriate notice,
Advancement of the greater good is just bonus.
I don’t take a strong anti-materialism stance,
‘Cause you can tell that I don’t care about it at a glance.
All beggars would be choosers if given the choice,
Everything to say was said while you were picking a voice.

Chorus: Dessert is an artificial construct.
The hard sell’s got us all stuck
With stuff we don’t want, but easing the pain
Coincides with freezing the brain.
And the true devotee is possessed of a tongue,
Hanging from the mouth, limp and numb.
And when the unbeliever finally conceded and knelt,
That’s when the soft serve started to melt.

2. Gloom swoops in on dark wings,
But whenever I see a beautiful woman with a balding man, my heart sings.
I wouldn’t call it a hot streak,
But I’ve been feeling how I always feel all week.
If I was born ready, then I guess it didn’t stick.
When it’s time for a different trick, I’ll switch to limericks.
And I’m the one that you should call upon
When you want a late night nostalgiathon.
I reject rules for appropriate expressions of grief,
That said, eulogies for your youth should be brief.
I resent being a customer,
Some poor working stiff’s thought bubble puncturer.
I put a silent question mark at the end of every statement.
I hope I never unwittingly groom my own replacement.
When your tooth isn’t suited to properly chew,
Then you find a smooth food to accommodate you.

Chorus: Dessert is an artificial construct.
The hard sell’s got us all stuck
With stuff we don’t want, but easing the pain
Coincides with freezing the brain.
And the true devotee is possessed of a tongue,
Hanging from the mouth, limp and numb.
And when the unbeliever finally conceded and knelt,
That’s when the soft serve started to melt.

3. After five minutes of watching a throne,
You see it’s just an elaborate chair and start walking home.
The light is failing, we can’t read the cue cards,
Improvisers all around, all trying too hard.
If you solve world hunger with your zipper down,
It’s gonna be the open fly that gains the most renown.
Minor medical procedures canceled ‘cause of lost nerve,
But you don’t gotta lose your tonsils to subsist on soft serve.

Chorus: Dessert is an artificial construct.
The hard sell’s got us all stuck
With stuff we don’t want, but easing the pain
Coincides with freezing the brain.
And the true devotee is possessed of a tongue,
Hanging from the mouth, limp and numb.
And when the unbeliever finally conceded and knelt,
That’s when the soft serve started to melt.

credits

from Matchforcer 1: Pincer, released September 16, 2015
The Mispronouncer made the beat, wrote the lyrics, and performed the vocals.

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The Mispronouncer Redlands, California

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