A Gentleman's Sport - Every Time I Die

Vague men tied to a stake

Gather 'round your little ones

Feast your eyes

Steady your aim

Behold

We hit shore dragging miles of verse

Poisoned food on the line, we’re throwing it back

Thought the meat of this kill would feed starving artists for centuries

Skin him, gut him

This is not what we bargained for

He is worthless unless he is whole

Make bait, food for thought

Spit back every hound

Spit back every hound

All that we hunt for, we are

Plastic rabbits and white elephants

An unclothed singularity is the fox that the dogs couldn’t reach

Skin him, gut him!

The contaminated repast for the head of the bachelor band

Make bait, food for thought

You have no idea what you’re up against

You have no idea

I chewed off my very own head to get me out of this trap

Bring me the tongue, everything else is fat

Salvage the tongue

Discard the rest of him

Bring me the tongue, everything else is fat

Salvage the tongue, everything else is fat

Bring me the tongue, throw back the rest of him