Quiet Now - Daedelus, Busdriver

Her beauty is its own color

Her curves reveal its every promise

I’m without shrine when light bends to complement her outline

I am without shrine when light bends

I’m just a man

Built to break and filled with hate

When I see beauty that cannot be put on a film and taped

When a woman appeared and light bended

She’s an ethereal flight attendant

I thought that I was reborn or maybe life ended

I discontinued to suck on my ice blended

Thinking she was just made for adult modelling

To make men salivate

She developed a cult following

With vulgar mammals who want to clip her wings but I thought of her as a solar

panel

And I’m not alone, most men agree

So I bedded my feelings in a foster home

Replaced them with Cro-Magnon testosterone

But I’ve never been good at hiding I’ve loved her since

Asked if she could color print the summer scent

And she did using notes flying out of golden tunnels with a single utterance

My man brought to a bleak yelp

When faced with this woman wearing chlorophyll and sea kelp

And angels hung from behind her as her seatbelts

Her beauty is its own color

Her curves reveal its every promise

I’m without shrine when light bends to complement her outline

I am without shrine when light bends

There’s a digital blip

On the whimsical length of whose physical fit frame

Depicts my indigo crypt

I’d like to die with my head on her bosom and sulk

Trade my thoughts with her like I was on wooden pulp

Sheets

All I could do was stand there

Sending her strands of hair

Put 'em in my vault to keep

She was like «we're not on the same wavelength»

And I was like «OH, you’re one of those prima donnas»

«Reading melodrama from a teleprompter»

She’s like come now I know you

Looking for rats who fornicate

At every point on the map on your tour date

Then to put 'em in your raps and record a tape

That may bear some partial truth

But I’m an artful sleuth and I care to say

You make Carmen look like a golf ball on a fairway

And I may be captivated by the scent of your hairspray

But I am not …

I repeat …

I am NOT—HIM

Light bends around her

She won’t register at the check-out counter

I stick my neck out

Offer her my web out

But I flounder

Her beauty is its own color

Her curves reveal its every promise

I’m without shrine when light bends to complement her outline

I am without shrine when light bends