Spit On It Lyrics - The Icarus Line
This is a list in no particular order of the things that can keep a man stuck inside the fear of outside.
The cannibal clerks that make mistakes only to blame themselves on you.
Grease in the palms of giant companies that should be building bombs.
Fastback frills that curdle over weeks give me the chills.
Lost advice generously spilling from the mouths of decrepit casualties who save their souls from forces
that breed control. It wasn’t always this way. Industry slaves catch the wave that kills art for pay.
I’m gonna feed you your children and eat from your bowl. Sorely sought sounds more like poorly taught.
Weather and feather. Ignored and vilified.
This ain’t no list. There ain’t no order. Keep your head stuck inside.
Fear of outside. You’re stuck on inside. You suck on inside. Let’s go out.
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