On the Days That I Fly
On the days that I fly
I'm America's sweet tart
The crux of absolutely everything
But when the eagle lands
With other eagles
It lands in a pile of shit
This island hammock
Of the subconscious
Is the spoilt milk
Of human kindness
So I call back
My perfect pal and drone
To help assemble
A perfect palindrome
Again we fly
Headgear
I'm into home evasion
Outside jokes
I'm a fucking quadfecta
Yeah
Autor(es): Rectangle Creep
