Space Pt. 5 - Farm Fresh, McEnroe, Pip Skid

It’s all true, everything on the network

Call you as a source to confirm

Fall through, the cracks to forget you

Who knew, the truth was a worm

And it’s out there, about face, attitude straight lace

Fast pace, fear that results in a rat race

We need space

We need to reboot

We need to breath

Or even see to

An attitude not about a house and a guest pool

A system that doesn’t keep electing a fool

I’m suspecting a stool as I smell a dirty rat

I’m running out of fuel, few have even heard of that

Your tires go flat, can’t start the SUV

Thank me, send blame to Kathy Lee

In the form of poison arrows

Who burnt a thousand barrels

From the house in the hill to sing you Christmas carols

In a bare old studio

Hair all pretty though

Enough surgery, we’re immune to growing old

We need space

Need to grow up

At this pace

Sure to blow up

Not the nice way with

Lack of sight, head lice and disease

Finally, brought twice to his knees

Take his wife then thieve as they please

When the underworld rises to claim what’s art

When the ground shuts down and it’s so damn cold

When the credit card companies finally fold

When the crops call it quits and the panic takes hold

When civilization breaks the mold

When living to 30 makes you old

We’ll need space

Space

You might as well say goodnight to your life

Like you had gone and fucked with Suge Knight’s wife

The light’s right

At the perfect setting

Live so high like we can land in the netting

Wetting and shitting the bed

Sleeping

The problem’s us, it’s the company we’re keeping

It’s what we’re eating

Our brain’s filthy

We take Sunday off to feel guilty

To feel fear

But it’s all here

Looking at the sky hoping Jesus will appear

With a tear

And gas leave a terrible taste

And the bomb shelter’s an unbearable space

We need space!

Quit crowding me

The Unibomber, you would be proud of me

People running, screaming, fleeing their home

Seeing flesh dripping off the bone

Kicked off the throne, no political advisers

The cops all pop tranquilizers

Geysers and hurricanes it gets worse

Ain’t no Superman to fly the Earth in reverse

I need space!

Aaaaah that’s what I’m seeking out

All these people are freaking me out

My gun a must with my back to the wall

I don’t trust anybody, family and all

On my feet, I don’t crawl

I need space!

Ain’t no more surgeons to fix your face

Freeze dry my corpse and send it to space

We’re so close to the end of the race

Space