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Looneys ft. Buck N' Nice and Zeebot

from High Priests of Low​-​Life by Flight Distance

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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


from High Priests of Low​-​Life, released November 15, 2014
Produced by Phillip Drummond and Nathan Marchand. Written and performed by Patience, Sawbuck, Zeebot and Bender. Scratches performed by DJ So Nice.


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Flight Distance Ottawa, Ontario

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