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Aesop Rock Maintenance Here are the song lyrics for Maintenance by Aesop Rock. For more excellent Aesop Rock lyrics, run a search! Typed by: Nature2QBC@aol.com [Aesop Rock] Count that for me...thanks [Robotic voice] 4x One, two, one, two, three, four [Aesop Rock] Well any asshole with a book of matches can light a fire fresh Make that sucker burn for days, I'll be impressed Circlin past the culture's bigot, procreation baked in advanceable Then ball and scurry up the grass to roll his marbles off the anthill I know gerth and nature but recognize absentee ballot And sappy ballads couldn't fill the void This game's in the giant Tugboat Complex and HE'S ANNOYED! (No one's asking you to feel the narc, brother!) Hmm, it's fashion I'll find my own bullies to shake a finger wrapped in Realigned mine knives in divine justice Plus this uncontrollable laugh with those ample waves of brain finally crash Brimstone clone with legs and dim poems Ten little Zen crafts Things cooperate like paper dog participants litigans Picket well or ride or burner style clinic Acid with the basics P-H imbalance to burn the malice martyrs spaceless Then fabricate daytrips I want to be the halo that jumps off the brain Of the genius who decided some pictures deserved frames (God and I are on a first name basis) Yeah I call him God, he calls me Jesus When I lost my religion, he fell to pieces Blade, dragon, up hell's creek Interrupting a devil pagent Starfighter settling to madness I keep my ghoul spirit concealed Until the warriors return to the Coney Isle Wonder Wheel [Chorus] 4x My momma told me there'd be days like this Days like this, days like this, days like this (yes she did) [Robotic voice] 4x One, two, one, two, three, four [Aesop Rock] Okay, tell me who you chill with and I'll tell you who you are I walk a mile with a leash attached to your freak seminar It's a modern sensation on the boulevard of maintenance To sweep your broken hopes under the rugs then hug the playpen This revolution pushing through the loose pins and a strait jacket A maverick classed in a bunk category They had him parallel with a tattered glory division (I could devil drink dreams out of thermos) Yeah, with a whiskey afterburn It's like, nine o'clock wake (I'm up) spit obscentities My girl ties on my cape, smoke a bone then work my dental tree The clear day's laced with a classic mother nature thunderchaser set That got my papergrain's wings wet Voyeurist amendments lack expansive coverage in the syllabus I dance with shuckles while you man the keyhole grilling code I've done my chores according to God's schedule With coffee holding the wheel and nicotine working the pedals Metal edge kings that tends to rapel the pebble Kettle screaching out the operetta I live to autograph the iron curtain with doveback feather pens Spurting magma, cursing television urns to burn until my Cleopatra Minor (Major) dispersed slap on the wrist For the tennants lacking the arms to harbor the rarity of thick friendship Stuck with a "Yes sir" Change of fatigue to ankle Each beneath the angle I'ma call home until the rock meets the angels Chorus 4x [Robotic voice] *repeat to fade* One, two, one, two, three, four
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