Girlfriend: What are you thinking right now?
El: I would really prefer not to tell you what's going on in my head right now
Girlfriend: I really wanna know. I'm not gonna hold it against you. I promise. I'm a big girl—I can handle it. Just tell me what's going on in your head...
["The Twilight Zone": Mr. Chambers, don't get on that ship! The rest of the book "To Serve Man," it's... it's a cookbook!]
That’s not a hand it’s a claw, and this is not a song its an exorcism of numbness
We are not in my bedroom anymore, it’s a prison camp that I've been stuck in
This isn’t skin, it’s a scramble suit with a thousand me's rotating
That’s not your mouth, its a boredom generator powered by irritation
We aren’t a couple, we're isolationists who tried to use the buddy system
And that wasn’t sex, it was a competition for power that I’m clearly winning
But that’s not victory, matter fact I think I’m better off forfeiting
You go for de gold girl, I’m about to bounce out deadwoods hills for cleaner living
And I really do...
Hope it all works out like you want it to
I hope it all works out like you want it to
I hope it all works out like you want it to
I hope it all works out like you want
This isn’t Brooklyn, it’s a colony of wayward bees without a queen
And we aren’t people, more like Sims controlled by childish deities
But see we're alive now, and that’s not time we're wasting nah this is life
And you're so pretty, like the gleam off that blade when you slipped my ribs the shivy
This ain’t a breakup, I like to think of it as a...stay of execution
And that’s not the air I’m clearing, its the wispy trails of our cumulus pollution
And that’s not despair you're feeling, its the petulant reaction of a wounded child
And that’s not the door I’m looking at, its an escape hatch to this zeppelin we're inside
And I really do...
El: I would really prefer not to tell you what's going on in my head right now
Girlfriend: I really wanna know. I'm not gonna hold it against you. I promise. I'm a big girl—I can handle it. Just tell me what's going on in your head...
["The Twilight Zone": Mr. Chambers, don't get on that ship! The rest of the book "To Serve Man," it's... it's a cookbook!]
That’s not a hand it’s a claw, and this is not a song its an exorcism of numbness
We are not in my bedroom anymore, it’s a prison camp that I've been stuck in
This isn’t skin, it’s a scramble suit with a thousand me's rotating
That’s not your mouth, its a boredom generator powered by irritation
We aren’t a couple, we're isolationists who tried to use the buddy system
And that wasn’t sex, it was a competition for power that I’m clearly winning
But that’s not victory, matter fact I think I’m better off forfeiting
You go for de gold girl, I’m about to bounce out deadwoods hills for cleaner living
And I really do...
Hope it all works out like you want it to
I hope it all works out like you want it to
I hope it all works out like you want it to
I hope it all works out like you want
This isn’t Brooklyn, it’s a colony of wayward bees without a queen
And we aren’t people, more like Sims controlled by childish deities
But see we're alive now, and that’s not time we're wasting nah this is life
And you're so pretty, like the gleam off that blade when you slipped my ribs the shivy
This ain’t a breakup, I like to think of it as a...stay of execution
And that’s not the air I’m clearing, its the wispy trails of our cumulus pollution
And that’s not despair you're feeling, its the petulant reaction of a wounded child
And that’s not the door I’m looking at, its an escape hatch to this zeppelin we're inside
And I really do...
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