Tuned Mass Damper

[Verse 1]

I took this photograph soaking wet

After an 8-ball cataract broke a jazz bass fret

The same touch to the chest of a young musician

He wrote his own eulogy with cocaine hands

Heroin arms, Novocaine memories

Lost since dropped into room from pink mammaries

Off of the dome, shit, I'm off of the phone

Off of the couch, off track

Out at OTB with a stub and a heart murmur

A flask in a fanny pack, a bastard on any track

(C'mon) Daddy needs a new Megatron

Cause the die cast was metal and blasted his left arm

You should've viewed how it affected John

Cause he erected bubble truths that burst loose from a glass bear hug

Cannonballing from mattresses for kitty litter fragments

Gleaming white under the black light

Well that's a random journal entry from scissor-hand nostalgia

Powers down to transfers

To some elected methodology of bare-knuckle compassion

A train wreck waiting to happen

Spelled out with refrigerator magnets

G-R-O-W-N-A-S-S-M-A-N, ducking his own death threats

And stay fresh (What?)

You microscopic Sally Struthers with a lobster bib

Munching on white platelets

Epiphanies leap out and surprise

Off of the backs of dead friends, the hardest way to get zen

You motherfuckers don't have grit

You are teenage poetry, martyrs without causes

Alarmists and opinions get (Taxed)

Motherfucker, did that sound abstract?

I hope it sounded more confusing than that

Cause my clarity was found under the arm

Of an economy sized mouse trap

I dedicate this to Matt Doo (thank you)

My name is El-P, I produce and I rap too

[Interlude: DJ Abilities scratches]

You're not promised tomorrow

You're not promised tomorrow

You're not promised tomorrow

You're not promised tomorrow

You're not promised tomorrow

You're not promised tomorrow

You're not promised tomorrow

You're not promised tomorrow

[Verse 2]

Yo, yo

I'm bottle rocket conflicted, all dirty with flame on wick nit

Lookin' for a hero in stores, looking for heart of gold whores

I swear the lust monkey sweat soaks in my pores

And this is one step from a junky liver breaking in doors

They playing global thermal nucleus games

Lets rearrange the whole complaint

Who the fuck is down to steal me some paint?

We could get ancient with this shit

On some cavernous wall description, I'm lit

Trying to draw this figure eight with a twig

As if the symmetry alone is a prescription to live

The rusty touch the rubble convert working plummeting MIG

'Cause it's a dogfight for the privilege of hope as a fix

And I'ma rally round the family till the quota conflicts

My generation is beautiful coma, REM hold the bliss

And the answer that just eluded you my friend don't exist

Unless we torch our own entrapments and exact our own scripts

Tuned mass damper baby, yeah, that's the shit