the soup
Get busy
I throw dice and darts, you dot your eyes with hearts
I hold a fork and knife under the guise of art
And chew the fat in Pig English, tapped and transmitted
Motherfuckers flock like Chads to a whippet
Daddy bad credit spill ketchup on the console
Pair of glowing eyes staring daggers from the foxhole
(God Flow) Aes stay gold like Ponyo
Hard headed, war-vetted,  four-legged mongrel
Speak slow order Jim Beam shoots
And split hairs over if it is a Jim Reed tune
On the big screen, pig skins, go team go
In the corner there's a cop with his whole wheat toast
Foreman of the flock In the last booth left
That the rest of us avoided cause the bathroom stench
On the bench there's some papers with the local fare
There's a chicken that I dated but I won't go there
We face down in the soup
Bent like a bow or a 'bow' or a U
Bad guest tramps through the house in his shoes
You a bad, bad man or a clown with balloons
We face down in the soup
Bent like a bow or a 'bow' or a U
Loud as a crowd getting down at the stoop
Throw your oars in the air or get out the canoe
Winter in the shit, pinner in his lip
W-w-winner, winner TV dinner kids, git 'er did
Treasure map full of pushpins, leather on his hoof since
Seven-six, never with a second set of footprints
Lone deathworm, spinning in a Deicide time lapse
Freedom fighter, feed a biter Zweiback dry
Real Earth hides in the syntax
Even if you don't take kindly to riff-raff (We do)
Boneheads illustrate a vessel to believe through
Nestled by the free green pea soup special
One for the mutts that walk three feet in front of their gut
Sipping mush out of cups
And still drag drills to the dig site, no way
No gray hairs, only silver pinstripes
Pills in the palms of a million dendrites
Just about sick of this buildings insides
We face down in the soup
Bent like a bow or a 'bow' or a U
Stoned to the bone, getting thrown through the roof
With a buzz like your wife, second strike on the Feud
We face down in the soup
Bent like a bow or a 'bow' or a U
Knock knock, Mallon got a crown to remove
Walk in with the broke, walk out with the food
Wild talk from the hallway steps
Through the sheetrock walls and the crawlspace vents
And his ears lopped off and a dog leg left
And the blood in his beard on the salt-stained ends
Sugar on top of his sharply worded
Ribbing with a gryphon in his car seat, swerving
Shotgun and the marquis merging
And his hand on the horn and a sorry sermon (My bad)
One eye closed like I'm Sandy Duncan
The other on the prize and a Stanley tough wrench
Paralyzed from the pant crease up
When he shook hands with a man in his family truck bed
Can't be fun, get spoiled and streaked with
Malice when the Mallons get the royal treatment
Oils and free shit and rare collections
Of falcons and helmets and bears with weapons
We face down in the soup
Bent like a bow or a 'bow' or a U
Sleep on the couch with a mouth full of chew
Wake up spellbound, hellhounds on the loose
We face down in the soup
Bent like a bow or a 'bow' or a U
Drinking water from the spout of the fountain of youth
Then we foam at the mouth or we howl at the moon
HMM
Rock the spot