High Priests of Low​-​Life

by Flight Distance

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High Priests of Low-Life is the third full-length album by Canadian hip-hop group Flight Distance and the fourth greatest thing to ever happen to you.


released November 15, 2014

Written, performed and arranged by Bender and Patience (SOCAN/ASCAP). flightdistance.net
Except guest verses: written and performed by each credited artist, respectively.

Additional instrumentation and production by James Hancock.
Mixed by James Hancock (Kanata, ON). soundcloud.com/jamesrhancock

Scratches performed by Calkuta.
Except "Looneys": scratches performed by DJ So Nice.

Recorded by DJ So Nice (Hassan Hamdan) at Busy Studios (Gatineau, QC). bucknnice.com

Mastered by The Quarter Inch Kings (Toronto, ON). thequarterinchkings.com

Cover art and layout by Christian Awad (Ottawa, ON). christianawad.tumblr.com

Manufactured by Standard Media (Ottawa, ON) standardmedia.ca

Made in Canada, 2014.

Flight Distance gratefully acknowledges the financial support of the City of Ottawa.

All rights reserved.

@flightdistance @al_bender @patrickflight @djcalkuta



all rights reserved


Flight Distance Ottawa, Ontario

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Track Name: Walther PPK
Hook x 2
P: I'm rockin' Wally Clarks like Walter White and Tony Starks
B: I'm rockin' Wally Clarks like Walter White and Tony Starks
P: Kill me with an authentic Walther PPK and pray to Jim Caviezel
B: Shit the sequel's on the way

Converted hybrid retro Mercedes
A stack of back issues of Playboy from the '80s
Russ Meyer shared fetish, John Larroquette haircut
Cash in the safe and the safe in the air-ducts

Don Juan '67 laser-disc
Reel-to-reel to DAT tape attached with soldered paper clips
Blood, kidneys, bones, a handkerchief
With PSJ in cursive, catch the drool of the space cadet

Chuggin' Labatt 50, bumpin' some Black Hippy
Trim my Mike Patton facial hair, then the fact hit me
I'm defined by aesthetics, pop culture obsessed
A pod, no substance, you cyacksuckers are next, unh

Human Tumblr: no original thought
Swore I saw 6:66 on my digital watch
There's vintage Polo on my mind, like all day
And my girl's got an ironic poster of Scarface

Hook x 2

Jean jacket airbrushed, blood hounds and grizzlies
Escort look like Helen Mirren in the '60s
Flew to Paris, had a pizza, never saw the Eiffel
Audubon Illustrated, Winchester rifle

Dream of Momofuku while I'm eatin' frozen seafood
Lookin' California while I'm feelin' Mogadishu
Sugar Mommy pay the rent, I'll never touch a pre-nup
Runners do the legwork, we chillin' with our feet up

Pied du Cochon V.I.P. special menu
Exotic houseplant stash bail for my nephew
Stay of execution show the monsters how to ball
I'm in your dream house, pulling copper out the wall

Winter '93 I rocked a parka like a mastodon
Summer '92 I got to third base on The Gravitron
Wah-zoo, Garry Kasparov study these dance moves
Russian Jew behind me with the black velour track suit

Hook x 2

P: I cut my copy of Infinite Jest in half
B: Ink spot indelible, been to the depths and back
P: Ralph Lauren bedspread under big breasts and ass
B: Left her breath smeared on the window, never Windexed the glass

P: My used Black Sabbath-patch jacket actually did a tour in 'Nam
B: Next-door neighbour Thora Birch, she never leave the curtains drawn
P: I carved 'Slayer' in my arm, and I've never even heard a song
B: Word is bond, I say word is bond

B: Paint a self portrait with a Reagan mask on my face
P: Womanizer, Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
B: Bootleg Chinese Power Glove massage your labia
P: C'mon girl, you know the story, Juno gave her baby up

B: Pile of cocaína tall enough to turn your blood pink
P: I'm Brutus with a Bluetooth, Sterling cuff-links
B: Television taught me everything you know
P: I'm Judas with a deuce coupe but never leave my home
Track Name: And They Hide Their Eyes ft. D-Sisive
Hangman behind me, tryin' to stump him on the last letter
Bad weather dog day afternoon black leather
Shorty got a coat-hanger, hope she tryin' to steal a car
Face drained of colour like a silver star in a film noir

Light pollution dimmed the galaxy to half a watt
Walking with Occam's razor pondering the path we lost
Air clouded, smog envelop us, the kids asleep
Empty warehouses exoskeletons of industry

Collapsing ceiling, low rise abandoned building
He just lamps and chills, feels like Maximilian at the Hilton
She said his tab's a bill, he ain't got half a shilling so he's
Climbing out the window 'fore that pimp comes back to kill him

Panic stricken on the transit system
Conductor acid trippin', havin' visions made a rash decision
Got merry-go-rounds on top of burial grounds that we swept
Under the rug and kept it hush but that's the land we live in

Some old socialite, baring her teeth
Very petite, out of fashion '90s heroin chic
Glaring at me, so paranoid convinced that I was following
She sucked her diamond ring off and swallowed it

First year nursing student, barefoot, pumps in hand
Colourful hundreds and under bundled in a rubber band
Husband at home she’s unprotected with another man
Now summer’s fuckin’ with your head just like the Son of Sam

(They picket the clinic) Patients witness at their worst of times
(Jordans drop) The kid with debt up to his ankles is the first in line
Park bench drinking Listerine and turpentine
Winter’s twisting up your mood and now your burdened mind

Unbridled entitlement and rude to the underpaid
Cashier who’d whoop his ass at Scrabble AND in other ways
Construction zones, sinkholes and something strange
Weaves between the trees and buildings and it comes this way

Run from change, it bubbles under, count the months and days
Where’s his parents? An heir apparent wears his funnel cake
Your neighbour wages escalating engagement in a drunken rage
Window washer hits the pavement like a stun grenade

My flesh is varnished by a film of the city’s air
And parasitic bacteria that just isn’t there
Employee scrubs off the sidewalk with little care
Man takes a seat places his bag on the middle chair
Track Name: Cyborgs on the Moon ft. Escrol and Whitney Delion
Crawled out the Cambrian seas
Came from the deep, made a b-line straight for the trees
Replaced the jungle with skyscrapers and streets
Jet stream to west, highway to the east

See the white orchid in bloom
The Pigs head on a stick and the flies swarm where it looms
See the youth getting high scorching a spoon
Make me wanna go and fashion the mic cord to a noose

Or wait for our light source to balloon
The world turn back to magma the firestorm can resume
Tonight I'm askin' the psych ward for a room
Having fevered dreams of death on a white horse in the gloom

Men of science warn that we're doomed
In due time we won't have no more lifeforms to consume
Cause we can put cyborgs on the moon
But still can't rinse the stink of the primordial ooze

Hooded falcons circle garbage that they see as rats
Artificial islands shaped like spiders wherein we relax
Couldn't fathom the hardships, only dream of cash
Self not exempt, no-one calls their own a fiendish laugh

Rodent smells another rotting that they think is trash
Unarmed kid shot by pig, pig fails to link the past
Prior generations did the same but we can shrink the gap
Your influence is illegitimate, I`m sick of your indignant badge

This refuse should have been recycled, that`s a fuckin` fact
Suffer from another`s lapse in judgement we can run the track
Paved over a habitat, with all the gravitas of grabbin` ass
And blame your friends, never made amends, it`s the way it went, I`m not mad at that

Mistaken cloud-gazer, that`s not a bird but floating drone
Controlled with sub-par technology to your mobile phone
No vacancy at the safe haven and when forced from your home
Look for Patience Flight Distance, poet Warlord of Boca Raton

Fire water out the Cuyahoga, mixed with that ayahuasca and psychotropics
Got that mind to open, that siren's song to the sky's Corona
Walking dead while the copperhead trying to bite the cobra
Y'all been bottle-fed while your idol's stanking of lime and sulfur

The correlations in Whitey Bugler and Iacocca
Water wippers chipping them pies of coca and Chysler motors
The ivory poacher land claimants and rightful owner
Fight promoters with rifles loaded thuggin' for white Jehovah

Ayatollah tryin' to build an altar
Preacher-man looking like Geechee Dan trying to fill their coffers
'Round the time the kid was a wiz at Contra
Olly moving arms like he's piston Honda in Nicaragua

They whip the soft into Rickenbackers
While Knickerbocker still will sell the story of prince and pauper to children watching Taking a pig to slaughter, they kill your father, you kill their father
They're calling that intifada but shit is karma
Track Name: High Bias/Unstuck in Whatever
We travel in time through our sense of smell
Remember the endless in a loop and then rebel
Hop in a Ford in Ontario, and out of a Florida Buick
The rings on this coniferous are my recorded music
Unstuck in whatever, resonant heads prevail
Agony and bliss, it just depends where you dwell
Heaven and hell: the good stuff at once, I wrote a blueprint
Ignore me I'm hesitant anyway and it, it's sort of stupid
It goes... All perspective, no attention paid till better days
And medicate yourself when lemonade is not an option
Enjoy the moments and relish 'em but with caution
Discomfort is comin', cousin, I embellish you not - just pause it
(This is real life!) Stop it dead in its tracks
You're not here right now as the sediment cracks
To their... reticent laughs, the sentiment goes unnoticed
It's totally hopeless nevertheless end it and hope they quote you

No lightspeed, black holes, string theory, none of that
Motherfucker double back
No Asimov, Wells, Bradbury, none of them
Just a strong will, pain threshold and rubber neck
You may feel a slight... ringing in your ears

Head on a swivel pick my eyes up off the ground
High bias, the kind of guy you'd want around
Hand on my nuts, pick my tongue up off the ground
Untethered yesterday, if she want to fuck around (with me)
Friends with houses, former those with dough now
Gettin' up early tomorrow for that job I couldn't hold down
I'll get my clock cleaned if i'm feelin' like a masochist
Or do a line of pollen and i'm watchin' televangelists
The salivator, gravitator
Seven seven one upside down on a calculator
The holographic laminator
Aerosol to muzzle question mark with the evaporator
Uncross your thighs I've proselytized
The cult of one in total, a copperhead bites
All these watered down ideas from slaughterhouse five
Unstuck in whatever, the martyr of time


(((You should see what YOU look like!)))
Track Name: Gold Cartridge To Purple Tape
I first heard of Zelda back in '87
Straight infected my brain in class I couldn't pay attention
Rap tapes and video games my main obsession
Plus comic books formed the trinity, ain't no question

Stan Lee was a legend Sam Keith walked on water
Rob Liefeld did that Levi's commercial, shit was awkward
Went to Len's Odds and Ends every Saturday like clockwork
To study Erick Larsen and McFarlane, they were monsters

Starving pockets, going through cardboard boxes of
Dark Horse and Marvel Comics, the art was flawless
Warlord Martian goddesses locked in carnal knowledge
How they captured the anatomy like that was hard to process

High school, I started drawing Wu members
Tagged the 'W' on everything and learned to do letters
Bubble to spaghetti, anything, I tried to do it
Seen a burner piece from Germany, the names were Daim and Loomit

Threw a halo on the tag, new felt tip
Goons felt it, mostly fools I blew Ls with
Dem crews jealous, now I'm the king like "Who's Elvis?"
Feelin gassed-up like Dennis with the mask in Blue Velvet

But I wasn't shit, one day me and a couple kids
Caught red handed doing throw ups at the Trussel bridge
Took my cans and my fingerprints like "What the fuck?"
$1000 dollar fine hit me like a sucker punch

Put the paint on hold, brushed up my writing and I
Started flipping samples from wherever I could find 'em
Did a couple local battles, got clout
Then I got with a sick-ass click and went all out

Fast forward now, to think it's so crazy
Rap took me round the world, I'm at The Louvre with my old lady
I'll keep the memories close, something sacred
'Til it's peace young world, I'll see you in the funny pages and I'm out...

It went gold cartridge to purple tape...

I dropped the Power Glove...
And saw Neil Young and Pearl Jam, '93 Toronto Ex
Before the bottle or the modern problems, hell, the thought of sex
Young Patrick had his interests in the fringes
My heroes had a different liquid in their syringes

Shake Records, pop copped me a tape weekly
Frank Black or 'Last Splash', I'd contemplate deeply
Sports were foreign more and more I'd grow anomic
Predisposed to the emotive and not a sort of product

Black Gazelles, dressing like Mike D.
'Check Your Head', my obsessions they might be
Something I can't control, my can control was shit
A toy with a Montana but I could stand alone and spit

Loving parents put me in therapy, was a joke
I ate like a parakeet and barely even spoke
Accident prone, I happened upon 'Bizarre Ride'
'De La Soul is Dead', and 'Dare Iz A Dark Side'

Hairline fracture, scared of my own shadow
Rapped along through my vocal ticks to whole albums
The mild tourettes made freestyling a breeze
Jan's dungeon, instrumentals from Beatminerz and Preme

Powell Peralta, Stratocaster, these things had no lasting power
Had encounters but it all just turned the static louder
Late bloomer, grey shoes wit' a black swoosh
Replaced the sketches with text in my black books

Discovered 'Funcrusher', scrip SSRIs
Audiofix, HHI, kickin' it with barflies
(Booked shows, started building) You're aware of the cast of characters
(Pussy took the front seat) There're scenarios I'm mad embarrassed from

I guess payin' dues started earlier than you would think
Folks took me to the music store not to the rink
Possessions over the years, man, I'm always losing things
Got it the day it came out, still got my tape of 'Cuban Linx'

It went gold cartridge to purple tape...
Track Name: Volcano Dust Interlude
(((Endzone Layers)))
Track Name: Briefcases
I've got some keepsakes to keep safe
Plane tickets and a stack of paper with the queen's face
Pop the lock and you're staring into deep space
Marcellus Wallace never had a soul, what's in that briefcase?

Gouzenko's documents, I squat at Kent and Somerset
Dip into the crowd beside the wreck, pretend to rubber-neck
This leather Burberry from Saks is my dummy case
The tattered Samsonite on my shoulder is the one that keeps my money safe and other shit

Signed Babe Ruth rookie card, the mothership
Is tongue-in-cheek to this extensive collection that I'm running with
I've got Van Gogh's ear on ice
A Jessica Alba sex tape and some disinfectant wipes

Strychnine syringe, anthrax and razor blades
Twist-ties for wrists when I ransack your vacation space
Government plots to doctor the murder rate
I've got a cure for cancer, cure for AIDS in my briefcase

Some of these items might not seem like they're related and they're not
I packed my place in haste in hopes today that none of the neighbours watched
Something deranged has stopped my current work in a second
It's time to get creative with some of my favourite possessions, check it:

Gonna pawn this never-before-seen photo of Robert Johnson
And drop this caucus member's daughter I've got for hostage
Cut my losses, double-crossed and now I walk with all my Earthly
I'll peddle these medals back to fans of Jackie Joyner-Kersee

Ditch my housing, wipe my brow with the shroud of Turin
Now, is this a 40 or Howard Hughes vial of urine?
Shopping cart modern art, and now I'm certain
A consumer, innumerable, all my shit is Tyler Durden


Passport with a photo of my human face
Assumed identity, customs knows me by a Jewish name
Spanish villa, forged the deed, I'm tryin' to clear the deal
Black leather driving gloves that never seen a steering wheel

Got the papers for a Swiss numbered bank account
Boarding pass, Eastern European town you can't pronounce
First class but I blend in once I'm seated
Kenyan birth certificate, presidential treatment

A photo of Barack golfing with some Tamil tigers
Micro vial of poison that tastes like Jagermeister mixed with
Apple cider, got three feet of piano wire
Blacklight to scan the room for DNA and fabric fibres

Perfume-scented handwritten love letter from a Persian
Flight attendant that purrs when I undress her
Heavy sedative that killed its first batch of drug testers
Low sodium goulash recipe, I watch my blood pressure

Got a key to the room where my suitcase is sitting
A newspaper clipping of a doomsday prediction
Password to a masquerade: "Roman tunic."
Perpetual motion prototype design stolen blueprint

Pair of opera glasses with the lenses cut from blood diamonds
Phone with no numbers keep the SIM card in my gum lining
Carbon-fibre pistol fire seven times in a second
Ten digits on a napkin, I memorized the extension
Track Name: Looneys ft. Buck N' Nice and Zeebot
Born alone, diatribe, orphaned, homeless, itemized
Mixed my Five Alive with some cyanide
Crawl back in my hole like Bugs Bunny
Cash stashed in the mattress, I don't make that much money

Just lovely, the smile is a lie
Between four walls, behind a door, it's kind of deprived
Pretty faces bump uglies with their sinus' on fire
Sign of the times, surprised without a violent demise, I mean...

There's always lived people like George Zimmerman
But murder was always murder, now they're hunting your citizens
(More like children) While on the phone with authorities
But life's good with a Bud Light, sunburned on the Florida Keys

Shit keeps me awake at night
The world's electricity harnessed in my room, I pay the piper
I sit at my desk and pour Guinnesses
Give tax dough to a government they'll only build more prisons with

And you're born alone, die a tribe: marginalized
Just a number; garden variety
I crawl back in my hole like Bugs Bunny
The cash is gone from my mattress and I don't make that much money

(Hook) Sawbuck:

I count the loonies in my pockets getting that Acme anvil
Putting in work to earn my worth, I hardly had a handle
On all my vices left a curse, I find it hard to manage
All of the things pulling apart my brain, feeling all dismantled

And when the gears start to break, caught living day by day
Scraping change from the eye in the sky
Cold reminder we're divided, trying to make it on time
We're on fire and can't save the design...

It's a first place race to the top
But channel zero cut the wire motivated with 'Bot
It's all survival, ask Charles, you'll either make it or not
It's on time and on vinyl, just wait for the drop

Stop tripping and roll, it's not a dragon, why you chasing control?
It's all smoke screens blazing and dope fiends paying
The price to see freedom, holding these demons
Until the lights will start fading, we're supposed to keep breathing

My paper chase is like Wile E. after The Roadrunner
I'm no hustler, bad with money like the Koch brothers
We all aspire to be couch money gazillionaires
Who break bread with upper crust and ransack their silverware

We don't have no war to fight, its only TV
We suckle from the pig that ate the wolf, this milk is greasy
See me wallowin' waist-high in my feces
Watching the revolution getting filmed against the green screen

My whole species livin' off a fortune stolen
'Fore you know it karma boomerangs
The veil gets torn wide open, that's why my door is bolted
Feelin agoraphobic, staring out my window while the storm approaches like a swarm of locusts

Of course it hopeless, the banks who make the Earth revolve
Are playin a game that we could never stand for like Murderball
Vision is 20/20 I can see the future
Got a vision of 2020 I can't see my future
Track Name: A-Alike B-Alike
A little birdie told me, "Sever ties" - then it died
Brain stem electrified, rest my mind
Backbone like cast stone, nevermind
Jumping buffalo, let it fly, bent my spine

I'm in a galaxy of collapsing stars
Falling dominoes in a synaptic charge
Let me trust someone
I treat my every scar like a motherfucking dust cover

High tech, low-life
No wife no kids, and rife with psychosis
I'm blind and I like dope things
The sordid type, with cold pints that the night gon' bring

But groundhog day gon' follow
Now I'm in the throws of an age-old problem
Déjà vu, we take home bottles
The cult with more quartz than Seiko watches

So these are my friends?
A-alike, b-alike, deep as it gets
So this is the end?
Hell nah, son, we 'bout to do it again

Stigmata from a twist bottle
All I see is thick models, looking through these piss goggles
Fish taco and a rib combo
Caveman your missus to the whip, hit the crib pronto

This is it, papo, we gettin toe' up
Riding shotgun with my lawyer doin' donuts
Wake up with a horse head
Plus the ESC printed backwards on my forehead

All my friends were born dead, cold war vets
We're all ulcers in the belly of the beast
All my friends got their ladels in the cauldren
Black out 'til noon then hit the telly with a freak

In her belly gettin' deep it ain't healthy but it help me with
My sleep get it in 'til my celly gets a beep then its peace
I aint sayin that the miserys unique
Come and meet me at the spot and watch history repeat

Track Name: Tree of Smoke
I'm up here playin with alchemy turnin water to gold
While I'm pissin offa the balcony on passerbys down below
Still on shoreleave spillin' 40s of swill my rites of passage
Feeling lost as the minotaur outside the labyrinth
Lost our child like innocence the ultraviolence festering...
Walked for miles in regiments of Monster Island denizens to
Cross the alps with elephants and crocodiles and pelicans
So pray and kiss your babies if that's your domicile we're steppin in
Clutch the sig by its muzzle
Flush the pig from the jungle
Now something bigger is coming it just got triggered to hunt you
Seen a ghost dropped a microdot up on the eastern slope
Askin whats a king to a god? What's a lumberjack to a tree of smoke?
Lightly put my livelihood is firewood for the higher good
So I write the book you'll never read
Guess there's no reason why you would
But one day they're gonna dig us up to find out what made us tick
So I'll spill my guts like I give a fuck and hope that it makes them sick
It goes: bones for the vultures, Salem witches for the pious
Souls for brimstone and sulphur, captive Christians for the lions
It goes: bones for the vultures, Salem witches for the pious
Souls for brimstone and sulphur, captive Christians for the lions
It goes: bones for the vultures, Salem witches for the pious
souls for brimstone and sulphur, captive Christians for the lions
One day they're gonna dig us up to find out what made us tick
Made us tick, made us tick, made us, what made us...
Track Name: Imaginary Friends
Sharon got knocked up tried to hide it from her parents
Put off the procedure, because, see she was embarrassed
Pleaded “Doctor, help me!” at 8 months it isn’t worth it
But baby Molly’s healthy, Sharon died there in the stirrups

Now, Oxford was a slick talker, slippery as an eel
Watches in his trench coat, he'll give your ass a deal
Liked to play with shiny things he stole some shiny wheels
Then the owner pulled a shiny thing and spilled his final meal

Blaine was quite vain for his age, very matter-fact
Even had a job sweeping shop for the haberdasher
Wanted the perfect tan on his boat in the river
When they pulled him out the water, said: “This is one crispy critter.”

June and Jim went camping, got lost in the forest
Heard a howl in the wind and wandered off with no torches
Climbed into a cave when they were drawn in by the warmth and
Now the wolf is sleeping fatter than a hog, here's the chorus

B: I've had to bury some imaginary friends
P: When all is said and done it doesn't matter they're pretend
B: So I'm spilling out my snifter every January 10th
P: Just to let ‘em know that I was right there at the very end

Edmund had a pen-pal, Delilah Rocher
Sent her a proposal with a lilac bouquet
By the time it got there she was lying in a cold grave
And he waited for her answer till he died of old age

Randall was a handful, always walked to school with wet hair
Mom said: “You’ll catch a death of cold before you get there!”
But he was smiling at his desk, when the teacher called his name…
Matthew played with matches and that school went up in flames

B: Klaus went spelunking down into a live volcano
P: Sam got salmonella from some old expired mayo
B: Magnus accidentally drank a half pint of Drain-o
P: Betsy flew her kite into an F5 tornado
B: Peter went missing on a cold Christmas Eve
Discovered next winter when they had the chimney cleaned
P: Claire took the dare and trick-or-treated the Connor house
Now her bones are in their garden and the story lives on, I’m out…

Track Name: Carambola, or Rome Was Built In A Day
(Hook) Bender:
To James Joyce's bones and the ghost of Langston Hughes
Whose poems rang of truth and to those who sang the blues
To those who showed their fangs but never broke the bank in two
'Cause the lowest hanging fruit was never enough, it's never enough
To old Dylan Thomas and the ghost of Langston Hughes
Whose poems rang of truth and to those who sang the blues
To those who showed their fangs but never broke the bank in two
Or picked the lowest hanging fruit to quench all those who drank its juice

Wake up.
Vacuum the floor, watch the door, reorganize your records
Scan for pretension in your text, cancel breakfast
Drink something fortified instead, it's damn incentive
To land in bed with a handled checklist, you ran the sentence like a spike
Your run-ons are such nonsense
Wash your hands and dangle your phalanges 'til they're dry
Now a drunk hostage of what options?
You want to make 'em synthesize, to live or die?
There isn't time, it's dignified
A witness lies, or skims to find some sort of thing inside
That feeds their narcissism written within, it isn't worth it
This isn't bullshit, though, it's something, right? It counts?
Akira confidence, the fear of consequence just mounts
Just put it out there, the masters all knew what they were doing
And trust me, nothing you write is hackneyed like Dave McEwen
That's the practice, some homework for your audience
Your batting average is more nonsense, and you lob it in
Best friend, worst enemy, eventually one in the...
Same it might come from the...
Basic run of the...
Millions of millions of neurons to which you're subject
Publishers want the 'moving parts', they want to 'touch base'

Word to God, you're a fraud, they've heard it all
Burn the crops, it's curtain call, learn to crawl, etc.
A practical joke, your back's to the ropes, you can't even cope
The matter is toast, you had to just coast along, the wrong competitor
Turn it off, you were lost, Who's The Boss? came on, your dog ate
Cue the nonchalance, they're all tasteless
But the fact remains, you've cashed the cheque
And if that editor rears his ugly head around here, you're gonna snap his neck
Yeah, the fact remains you've spent the dough
And if the bill collectors fill your head with dread you're gonna send him home head first
Essentially, friend to me, you've blown your deadline
And now you never leave your home, it's bedtime

Best idea strikes the second your head hits the down
Pull a Mitch Hedberg instead, listen now:
24-hours, not a word, you fill in your cage
Quite nicely, Rome was built in a day

Track Name: Same Shit, Different Year
It's crazy how the days just disappear
Wasted sipping beer, same shit, different year

Perhaps, exposure therapy
Dean's list, three kids, sober clarity
Pressure to a nosebleed, pulmonary leaks
Some sorta concerted effort...

It's crazy how the days just blend together
Never better, livin' triple X or seventh letter
Depressed, whatever; the good shit for granted 'til a memory
In a roundabout way, you killed my enemies

And if you could go back in time and do it different
You would find the intuition save yourself some major heartache
But if I had to I would gladly be a statue
Come alive only to catch you all over, and baby carpe

And in an instance, meet your eyes to feel a splitting in my sides
And spill my baboon heart...
No time wasted, s'not invested till yet
And I would never regret two starts to that same day



Yeah yeah, now I watch the paint chip in this chair
While I'm sitting here trying to get it all crystal clear
Am I lost trying to steer through the fog?
Who the hell are we foolin' givin' cheers to our spirits and our health?

Now how'd I get this grey tinge in my beard?
Something's missin' here could these be the days that we feared?
Feelin caught in the gears of the clock, need help
Double-fisting in the mirror, giving cheers to myself

Sometimes it's like the pain gets so severe
My brain just interferes with what I'm trying to figure out
But you can see my face shift when you're near
When you not around cant get this little sneer off my mouth

And hey miss, did ya' hear?
I may slip, but my dear I cant do it by myself
And in the past i may have been insincere
But there ain't nobody else who'd make me wanna work it out, it's crazy

Track Name: Three-Headed Dog Interlude
(((Now my anger is back in me.)))