Black Box Warrant Songtext
von Will Wood and the Tapeworms

Yes, Jon?
Ladies and gentlemen, Jonathon Maisto
Big round of applause for this guy for putting up with my shit for so many years
"Nice shirt, Jon"
"Thanks"
"You′re welcome"
Working a little bit better now, buddy?

Well, he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor
Anaphylaxis with a pack of bottle rockets
Oh, the way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges
With a bag of tangerines in his back pockets
And the method with which he recycled his vitamins
Had started to leave scars on the corners of his eyes
And looked through the white-out revelation chain, he saw no stars
Even underneath the wide Ohio skies

Shields himself from reason in a Teflon alabaster jacket
Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers
Screams his thoughts to hear them
Over self-assured sarcastic racket rabble-rousing babble round the table people to the power


For what? For what? For what it's worth
If it was going to kill you, boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it′s worth
There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

Well, he was... uh
Well, he was... uh
He was... uh
He-, he was-, he was-
He was carrying this briefcase
Filled with teeth that he had ordered online from China
And he had slung over his shoulder the skin of a cat
That he grew up with and then had, uh, stuffed
To preserve its memory and physical form
But decided that with the skeleton inside the cat
And all the stuff stuffing it, it was too heavy
So he removed the skin from the wire frame
Of the taxidermy thing and he-, he-, he slung
Around his neck like a scarf


And he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose
Around his Lotus jugular when they came
Well they found him with a map to every victim of his love
And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face
And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let his flat line cry
A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic
But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang
"For Auld Lang Syne, happy birthday to the succulents, I′ll die your hydroponics"

His rib cage was a hornet′s nest and palpitations set the beat
His vagus nerve a Turk's head knot, an axel hitch, a Carrick bend
He wondered if the good lord Jesus charged a cancellation fee
Auf Wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

For what? For what? For what it′s worth
If it was going to kill you, boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it's worth
There′s no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down

I settle into a new mind
In a flea-bitten tub ring paradise of a queen size suite
Of a Wyndham, Microtel, Econo Lodge, Red Roof Inn, Knights Inn, Super Eight
Whatever outside Richmond, Virginia
I curled up an old Showtime softcore porno and flipped through my phone for a few hours
Picked up a bag of Swedish Fish and a fistful of chocolate covered cherries
And a pack of Marlboro NXT for three dollars and ninety cents
In the bodega by the Waffle House
I spun my eyes over the beautiful floral arrangements
Blooming and tessellating in the stucco on the walls
Anything, I figured, to keep my mind off those goosebumps
That were rising, and squeaking, and cracking, and quacking
And threatening anaphylaxis and asphyxiation with every sharp inhale that I took
With the threat of Stevens-Johnson Syndrome behind my flesh
And I watched as my skin crawled upwards to form a flesh noose
To hang me from the rafters of that place I had found myself in
And I watched as my epidermis took on the shape
Of whatever I feared the most in that moment
And I sat there down in that fly trap ashtray contemplating my next move
And weighing out the pros and cons of every last rotten pulse
It was either Wilmington, North Carolina, or the nearest hospital

For what? For what? For what it′s worth
If it was going to kill you, boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it's worth
There's no more looking back
No, no there′s no more looking back
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no
Ah, ah
For what? For what? For what it′s worth
If it was gonna kill you, boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it's worth
There′s no more looking back
No, no there's no more looking back
No, no, no, no, no, no
It′s looking up or looking down