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Artist: Aesop Rock
Album:  Daylight EP
Song:   Maintenance
Typed by:

[Verse 1]
Well, any asshole with a book of matches can light a fire fresh
make that sucker burn for days I'll be impressed
Surfing to bash the coach of bigot procreation baked in fanciful
Then scurry up the grass to roll his marbles off the anthill
I know girth and good nature but recognize absentee ballots
And sappy ballads couldn't fill the void
It's James and the giant tugboat complex and he's annoyed
No one's asking you to build an ark brother, it's fashion
I'll find my own bullies to shake a finger at and then realign mine eyes in divine justice
Plus this uncontrollable laugh when those amber waves of grain finally crash
Brimstone, cloned with legs and dim poets, 10 little Zen crafts
Finks cooperate like paper doll participant litigants picket well
Around a burner style clinic, acid for the basics
Ph imbalance to burn the malice martyrs faceless, then fabricate daytrips
I wanna be the halo that jumps off the brain of the genius who decided
Some pictures deserve frames, God and I are on first name basis
Yeah I call him "God" he calls me "Jesus"
When I lost my religion he fell to pieces, blame, dragon
Up hell's creek interrupting a devil pageant, Star fighter settle into madness
I keep my ghoul spirit concealed until the warriors return to Coney Isle Wonder Wheel

My mama told me there'd be days like this, days like this, days like this
days like this...

[Verse 2]
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 boulevards of maintenance to sweep your broken hopes under the rug
Then hug the playpen, it's revolution pushing through the loose pins of the
straight-jacketed maverick classed in a bunk category
They had him parallel with a tattered glory division
A.k.a. them who drink dreams out a thermos with a whiskey afterburn
It's like, 9 o'clock wake spit obscenities my girl ties on my cape
Smoke a bone then work my deviltry, the clear day's laced with a classic
Mother nature thunder chaser set that got my paper crane's wings wet
Voyeurist amendments lacked expansive coverage in the syllabus
I dance for chuckles while you man the keyhole grilling post, that's fine
I done my chores according to God's schedule with coffee holding the wheel
And nicotine working the pedals, Metal edged cadence that tends to repel the bevel
Kettle screeching out the operative, I live to autograph the iron curtain
With doves backfeather pen spurting magma, cursed television earns the burdens
Of my Cleopatra, minor, major, disperse slap on the wrist for the tenants lacking arms
To harbor the rarity of thick friendship, sunk with a "yes sir" chained to fatigued ankle
Leagues beneath the angle I'm a call home till the rock meets the angels