Ethereal Driftwood

Y all want to see tits and ass,

Street grit and sass

As beatniks smoking grass on holiday

-You know what we want-

You're looking for a grievance to mask, preferably with a fetus in the trash

While you eat quiche and laugh on the Champs-Elysee

-You know what we want-

I'm not down with that B-list staff,

As they yell out Jesus at mass

I'll be laughing while I knead this mish-mash of pottery clay

-You know what we want-

An appropriated grease-slick slab, posted up as a meat stick add

But I make the average moviegoer too seasick and sad

-You know what we want-

And I'm too caustic to run, for office or be expunged

For my agnostic plunge

-You know what we want-

So what I've accomplish and done, is viewed as an off-setted pun

By the posh and young tastemakers

-You know what we want-

An overdone tame premise,

I jump from the plane wreckage

Unscaved yet sunbathed in the rigors of a bass pluck

-You know what we want-

Pop culture's lame vestiges, I'm an ordained pessimist

With hippie-qualms and

sticky bombs to deter the tank-truck

I'm good for a belly laugh

Covered in a blanket of ash

Leaving with an ankle cast

But sometimes I feel that

I don't have what you want

So won't you accept my humble offerings

Broken TV sets as ethereal driftwood

When you're on the plan alive with water wings

You'll think,

I didn't know surrendering felt this good

I don't have what you want

So won't you accept my humble offerings

They want semantics and sniveling

Grams to sniff on a triple-beam

To be hand-picked for a little scene

In a student film

All I have is pamphlets full of liberal zing

Antihistamines in a syringe-sling

A shanty for this fitted king

Of uprooted elm

And they've been given solar-powered cars

Trail mix and power bars

Upturned tarot cards

They want to be heralded by wishful teens

In stretch-Hummers and limousines

They're beyond medicinal means

-You know what we want-

But I gave them a protagonist

The color of cinnamon and mahogany

filtered through award-winning cinematography

And the motherfucking discography of a G

If you don't like it then kick rocks

Im pre-history's disc-jock

Yeah, I know what you wanted homie

but I never had the shit in-stock

I don't have what you want

So won't you accept my humble offerings

Broken TV sets as ethereal driftwood

When you're on the plane alive with water wings

You'll think,

I didn't know surrendering felt this good

I don't have what you want

So won't you accept my humble offerings