Becoming Agrophobic Songtext
von Muph & Plutonic
Becoming Agrophobic Songtext
What are you listening to?
What are you listening to?
Yeah, my English teacher thinks it′s a highly important form of modern poetry
It details the common man's struggle for survival in a hostile environment
"Please don′t ask the question, how low can you go?"
What the fuck you looking at? You're staring at your attitude
Gave you a smoke and you showed no gratitude
How bout a thank you? No, he wants to hang you
Big feeder, heat seeker, wants a fat feud
Brewed by the lack of manners, cabin crackers
The little factors that matter scatter all over the tracks
Pitter-patter gathers and gutters crack
Jump - the rudder smashed, hit you with one attack
He ain't coming with that
Nah he lacks that sense of esteem, but he′s the king of his dreams
And he swings from the beams that hold up his head
His beanie′s seen spat on, cleaned and left for dead
Amongst the bread and butter strugglers
He tries to smother the udder, angst the cranks
The ranks stench of skid marks on the fence, he clings to strength
And lives to bring revenge to the things bent - insanity
Most handle it fine but his mind grinds with gravity
Thoughts deport to orbit
Nervous and awkward at the smallest events
Vents his frustration on the corrugated fence
Fist clenched against the iron
His only real release now - he's gonna have to be rhyming
"Please don′t ask the question, how low can you go?"
The older he gets, the younger he feels
The harder to deal with conflict
The more he conceals, the bigger the ditch
Now he can't even handle the smaller fish
Huh, amongst the pretty, petty, pointless concerns
He turns his shoulder from the border of broader social life
He becomes a socialite with his vocal mic
And hopes his sights don′t go blind to folks he likes
The light's derived from the kind type that pass on a free ticket
They′ve got no need with it
He sees these simplest gestures as a treasure
To remind him of the whine and whinge, the overlook of the finer things
That this life can bring, but the silence seems freedom
And his aggression has overeaten, feeding on the evil things
This is what the people give, sift through the line
Push, shove, twisted spines of ignorant times
That emphasize the self-survive approach
That coasts through the smoke filled cityscape
Intimidate, aggravate, elevate hate
No place for manners, taught to take what you can
We've all had plenty of practice, contributing factor
Is the fact is the nice come last
So everyone's trying to push their way past, but the smarter ones laugh
Knowing there′s more to life than being the first to start
The best dressed, he knows they′re right, but he tends to forget
And the bubble gets bigger till they're touching the trigger
And he′s quick to snap, punching walls and doors - he's unable to relax
So he locks himself in his room to be consumed within his raps
"Please don′t ask the question, how low can you go?"
[Hook X2] (2nd time fading out)
What are you listening to?
Yeah, my English teacher thinks it′s a highly important form of modern poetry
It details the common man's struggle for survival in a hostile environment
"Please don′t ask the question, how low can you go?"
What the fuck you looking at? You're staring at your attitude
Gave you a smoke and you showed no gratitude
How bout a thank you? No, he wants to hang you
Big feeder, heat seeker, wants a fat feud
Brewed by the lack of manners, cabin crackers
The little factors that matter scatter all over the tracks
Pitter-patter gathers and gutters crack
Jump - the rudder smashed, hit you with one attack
He ain't coming with that
Nah he lacks that sense of esteem, but he′s the king of his dreams
And he swings from the beams that hold up his head
His beanie′s seen spat on, cleaned and left for dead
Amongst the bread and butter strugglers
He tries to smother the udder, angst the cranks
The ranks stench of skid marks on the fence, he clings to strength
And lives to bring revenge to the things bent - insanity
Most handle it fine but his mind grinds with gravity
Thoughts deport to orbit
Nervous and awkward at the smallest events
Vents his frustration on the corrugated fence
Fist clenched against the iron
His only real release now - he's gonna have to be rhyming
"Please don′t ask the question, how low can you go?"
The older he gets, the younger he feels
The harder to deal with conflict
The more he conceals, the bigger the ditch
Now he can't even handle the smaller fish
Huh, amongst the pretty, petty, pointless concerns
He turns his shoulder from the border of broader social life
He becomes a socialite with his vocal mic
And hopes his sights don′t go blind to folks he likes
The light's derived from the kind type that pass on a free ticket
They′ve got no need with it
He sees these simplest gestures as a treasure
To remind him of the whine and whinge, the overlook of the finer things
That this life can bring, but the silence seems freedom
And his aggression has overeaten, feeding on the evil things
This is what the people give, sift through the line
Push, shove, twisted spines of ignorant times
That emphasize the self-survive approach
That coasts through the smoke filled cityscape
Intimidate, aggravate, elevate hate
No place for manners, taught to take what you can
We've all had plenty of practice, contributing factor
Is the fact is the nice come last
So everyone's trying to push their way past, but the smarter ones laugh
Knowing there′s more to life than being the first to start
The best dressed, he knows they′re right, but he tends to forget
And the bubble gets bigger till they're touching the trigger
And he′s quick to snap, punching walls and doors - he's unable to relax
So he locks himself in his room to be consumed within his raps
"Please don′t ask the question, how low can you go?"
[Hook X2] (2nd time fading out)
Writer(s): Leigh Roy Ryan, Daniel John Young Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
