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Mood Organ

de clipping.

Sh, sh, sh
Plasma wall lit, mm
Deny that, he ain't really up yet
Wash his mouth with the whiskey
The same glass he set
On the nightstand for the night before, mm
Only had to take one
Don't know where the bitch went
She was just—wait, no wait (no, wait, oh)
No, that was a week ago

Grab his gun with his underwear on the floor
Why is that wall still blinkin'? Leave him alone
She already knowin' some other skin and bone
Doin' something unspeakable
He ain't speakin' okay
Move the squeaky panties out the way and count up what he saved
Like, seventy-five thou
Almost enough to grab his bottle and walk away
But not today
Sh, sh

He comin', he comin, just let him put on his shirt, Jesus Christ
The hum of the neon's persistent, can't get no sleep at night, zzt, zzt
Thumbin' through paperbacks just to remember the feelin'
Okay, okay
He'll accept the call and ask that they ignore the wire plugged in the ceiling
The plaster is peelin' away

Swear the Sun is burning through the cream
It's just another way to get 'em all the paper shit nobody really needs
Fresh air will be the death, maybe it's welcome
Pocket full of upfront, put it all on the
Challenger to live, they never do
But that mean it's overdue
For that shit to come in, so let it ride
Don't let him die, don't let him die, don't let him die
Oh, he dead

That son of a bitch didn't keep his guard up
And they tore him up limb from limb
What did he expect from a skinner?
Meaty motherfucker really never had it in him
Almost feel bad
But when they get up, it's on him
To scour the avenue, battlin' elements
Skinners are slippery if unintelligent
Better go get it
Refresh another drink
Gotta stay loose and lubed up
Two-steppin' to the tunes on the juke, but
Even the bangers are melancholy
Get goin' old man, 'cause you broke and your work is important
(Shut up, you ain't fooling nobody)

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