A mere fragmentation, chip off the old block
With the insulated tubing of a football sock, with stripes being levels of achievement
Rolling up my sleeves, went and tried to get mine
This I found, fine: that I write rhymes for days; please, no praise
The latest craze is what's leaking from the deacon speaking freaking words like the Miami nightclub
What's all the hubbub, Bub?
Got all the bits and particles of my articles, piece in the puzzle
Searching for the reason to guzzle, drinking juice that ain't theirs
Cold as ice from my stares
Fein broken-hearted fit in non-members credit card
They weigh in, swearing they're gonna stay in
With my spiritual blessings I'm a spendthrift not a tightwad
Keeping pressure off my chest, peaceful sleeping like "Goodnight God,"
And slumber-chopping, lumbar-propelled, posture-crushing mainframe
Playing brain games to maintain, perpetuate the same thing
We are the world, we are the children
Throw your hands to the ceiling
These fragmentations with high standards, aspirations
Using vocal complications, keeping on-air deceit
Thinking to yourself, "They're so unique,"
Keep your mouth shut, you better not speak 'til my entire satieties satisfied society
My variety is gaining notoriety
Ah, that was "Fragmentation" on your FM dial - W. F. R. A. G
With the insulated tubing of a football sock, with stripes being levels of achievement
Rolling up my sleeves, went and tried to get mine
This I found, fine: that I write rhymes for days; please, no praise
The latest craze is what's leaking from the deacon speaking freaking words like the Miami nightclub
What's all the hubbub, Bub?
Got all the bits and particles of my articles, piece in the puzzle
Searching for the reason to guzzle, drinking juice that ain't theirs
Cold as ice from my stares
Fein broken-hearted fit in non-members credit card
They weigh in, swearing they're gonna stay in
With my spiritual blessings I'm a spendthrift not a tightwad
Keeping pressure off my chest, peaceful sleeping like "Goodnight God,"
And slumber-chopping, lumbar-propelled, posture-crushing mainframe
Playing brain games to maintain, perpetuate the same thing
We are the world, we are the children
Throw your hands to the ceiling
These fragmentations with high standards, aspirations
Using vocal complications, keeping on-air deceit
Thinking to yourself, "They're so unique,"
Keep your mouth shut, you better not speak 'til my entire satieties satisfied society
My variety is gaining notoriety
Ah, that was "Fragmentation" on your FM dial - W. F. R. A. G
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