Corn Maze - Malibu Ken, Aesop Rock

I’m the world weekly news Batchild

Beelining ash pile to ash pile to ash pile

For every ghost climbing out the flat file

Every gaffe, every lone spaz in the snack aisle

Cracked out, don’t touch that dial ever

These trap doors forecast quagmire weather

But it’s worth it, from cobras out to kiss him on the cheek

To snatching victory from out the jaws of imminent defeat

The phone ping from a pillow fort in a corn maze

I don’t have a horse in your war games

I don’t even really like horses

I like wild orchids and neighbors with wide orbits

Electric fence and pets that tend to pretty much ignore us

We headbutt in the mornings then report to separate corners

Criminy, ya killin' me Smalls, the fist balls up

I pull my hood down, I got some walls up

Walls up

I keep my coat on I got some walls up

Chips down, walls up

I cut the lights off

Every day I wake up in a gallon of sweat

Puke blood, hit the shower, turn to Malibu Ken

While you were asking all your lackeys, «Are we jackals or men?»

I’ve been the sorcery authorities should catch if they can

Mostly a master of none, come try the coffee, it’s burnt

He type a chapter, it sucks, top of the moth-eaten world

Pick a one-horse town, four horsemen got his number

I feed each one the others camouflaged in Fluffernutters

The million-dollar free jazz-speak in a secret garden

Some people think it’s freakish, but they can’t deny the harvest

It’s funny when they’re later made

To celebrate the shit they said was garbage

It only show the city who the mark is

Are we Donatello’s David or delicate Frozen Charlottes?

Even Davids know, in art, there often will be no catharsis

The voices in my head still talk tough

I go to bed stoned, I got some walls up

Walls up

I keep my coat on I got some walls up

Chips down, walls up

I cut the lights off

In a lavish rabbit hole with no rabbits

Young, dumb dust-bunnies jump into traffic

Casually gussied up and done feeling unsung and savage

Punk, we have come for your cabbage

I’m bad news, travel like a rat through your cabinet

Spaz, twenty paw-pads full of scabs

Off in a false ad, fall plaid, all dander

Blast off, black jackdaws on his antlers

Zero faithers, wearily fear his neighbors

Someday we’ll find a way to make these billionaires obey us

Someday we’ll earn a subdivision gaudier than reprobates

Who sit around depressed and guess the order of the Tetris rain

With biblical misreckoning, son of surly Satan torn asunder

Private number, public urination

We socialize with pundits who encompass all the wrong stuff

I count the bread quick, I got some walls up

Walls up

I keep my coat on I got some walls up

Chips down, walls up

I cut the lights off