chorus:
we don't need no walkie-talkies, nope no walkie talkies, we don't need your coug hing when offing the morning coffee, no, we don't need no walkie-talkies, nope n o walkie-talkies we just want our hermitry to stay and our coffee to go
and the last shall be, first to immerse in the pass out heat, face in the mud wh ere the moxie melt 'til he woke up drowning in chachkes hell, more in a cave wit h a torch on the wall than a window arrangement of porcelain dolls on a brand ne w day, saw what he saw, property owners who crawl to the mall, with a bad toupee and a face like he author the law, pace like he mourning a loss, right hand on a can of worms, left full of gold he will trade for turf, i mean thats o.k., you got to answer to you at the end of the volatile day, but a model of mercy and m ight? no way, marionette who will clap and obey, dude, look, all that noise? cal l that flight of the water boys, meet and greet and they all slap five, cheek to cheek when they colonize, and a grown ass man shall abide as he wish, walk that path with a dime and a stick, walk that path with a diamond and wine, walk that path to the firing line, just walk, pay no mind to the new recruit with the pla y-doh spine, let's be friends from opposite ends, wave to the kid don't hop on t he fence, play to the radius far and away, orbit wide don't park in his space, o ne little martyr who talk in his face make one little weathermen sharpen the bla des.
chorus
and the last shall be, first to the curb with the mad cow meat, face in the bars of a regular cell when he woke up high in collectible hell, boom town kid who w as taught by the binge that a man who expire with the most shit win, that's warp y american nonsense penned by the rich, not a routine friend in a pinch, still n ot used to the stench, how it throws off otherwise lucid events, in the case the afraid observe i got a pro-keds box full of layman's terms, it goes hey, peace, pray for the plagued, major relief and capacious rains, but just cuz i don't wa nt to war with you, it don't mean go warm up the barbecue, i'm like pardon you, sawed off limit, my high noon is a quick little minute, i don't wanna spend it s itting with a critic, who simply isn't going to ever really get it, this HQ is a live and alone, no driveway no sign of a home, no dial tone, no line for the pho ne, no world's tiniest violin song, and i might just lie to them all, lie in the morgue with a deep breath hiding and bored, fighting a smile, highly annoyed, w hen the timing is right i will rise and record, cal for the monster beats and bl ockhead got animal drums like he's doctor teeth, it goes red light green light 1 2 3, one large coffee, fuck you, peace.
j.d. - i crawled down to the basement when the weather got cold, like a lost lam b returning to the fold, and when the outside world recedes from view, it's just a year's supply of make-up and memories of you, 1967 colt 45, holding back the vampires, keeping me alive, there's an envelope with some cash in it out by the front door, this is what they make you take the medication for
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