Ethereal Driftwood

[Verse 1]

Y'all want to see tits and ass

Street grit and sass

As beatniks smoking grass on holiday

(You know what we want)

You're looking for a grievance to mask

Preferably with a fetus in the trash

While you eat quiche and laugh on the Champs-Elysee

(You know what we want)

I'm not down with that B-list staff

As they yell out Jesus at mass

I'll be laughing while I knead this mish-mash of pottery clay

(You know what we want)

An appropriated grease-slick slab, posted up as a meat stick add

But I make the average moviegoer too seasick and sad

(You know what we want)

And I'm too caustic to run for office or be expunged

For my agnostic plunge

(You know what we want)

So what I've accomplished and done

Is viewed as an off-setted pun

By the posh and young tastemakers

(You know what we want)

An overdone tame premise

I jump from the plane wreckage

Unscathed yet sunbathed in the rigors of a bass pluck

(You know what we want)

Pop culture's lame vestiges

I'm an ordained pessimist

With hippie-qualms and sticky bombs to deter the tank-truck

I'm good for (a belly laugh)

Covered in (a blanket of ash)

Leaving with (an ankle cast)

But sometimes I feel that…

[Hook]

I don't have what you want

So won't you accept my humble offerings

Broken TV sets as ethereal driftwood

When you're on the plane alive with water wings

You'll think, 'I didn't know surrendering felt this good'

I don't have what you want

So won't you accept my humble offerings

[Verse 2]

They want semantics and sniveling

Grams to sniff on a triple-beam

To be hand-picked for a little scene

In a student film

All I have is pamphlets full of liberal zing

Antihistamines in a syringe-sling

A shanty for this fitted king

Of uprooted elm

And they've been given solar-powered cars

Trail mix and power bars

Upturned tarot cards

They want to be heralded by wishful teens

In stretch-Hummers and limousines

They're beyond medicinal means

But I gave them a protagonist

The color of cinnamon and mahogany

Filtered through award-winning cinematography

And the motherfucking discography of a G

If you don't like it then kick rocks

I'm pre-history's disc-jock

Yeah, I know what you wanted homie

But I never had the shit in-stock

[Hook]

I don't have what you want

So won't you accept my humble offerings

Broken TV sets as ethereal driftwood

When you're on the plane alive with water wings

You'll think, 'I didn't know surrendering felt this good'

I don't have what you want

So won't you accept my humble offerings

I don't have what you want

So won't you accept my humble offerings