1,000 O'Clock Lyrics
| Song | 1,000 O'Clock |
| Artist | Aesop Rock |
| Album | Skelethon |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| I wear shoes to bed | |
| Paint teeth on my lips | |
| Trench foot, gangrened for the win | |
| Blitzkrieg bopper | |
| Petitioned out of shit's creek proper | |
| The only inaccessible blip on the streaming doppler | |
| Screaming ‘uncle' in a sea of | |
| TV doctors | |
| Free to occupy the same space in differing degrees of seedy commerce | |
| The shot is slow pan, monitor guffawing | |
| Flooded p.d. blotter under horizontal coffee | |
| More to follow, outside tweakers are in love | |
| Teeny Raquel | |
| Welch submarining through the blood, voyagers | |
| Poisoned or maybejust a misfit toy or two | |
| Depending on the beacon that your voyeurs choose | |
| That sorta hemming and hawing‘ll haunt your boiler rooms abysmally | |
| And kidnap rapid eyes in their infancy | |
| Everything his cutting room scrapped | |
| On a silver screen that throws gummy bears back, attack! | |
| All these tribes hoard breads and wines | |
| These climates transform men to swine | |
| All these hives hide knives and lead | |
| These bribes can't transform swine to men | |
| Sensible sweater on ice | |
| Devil horns high | |
| Like shovels above a butter lamb with peppercorn eyes | |
| Vendetta-drunk leader squealing "it's the real pig fever" | |
| Sick people pinky swearing on concealed 6th fingers | |
| That's idle handwork in the spirit of death dealers | |
| Look at mommy's little | |
| Hercules Custom | |
| Troy Hurtubise | |
| Flourish in the blind spot of spittle county gore police | |
| Or really any readily ebbing and flowing war and peace 1 plain brown key foods bag head 2 holes later | |
| I'll see to this loose flatbread | |
| Cats ****ed off, at exactly what cost | |
| The currency of brotherhood back in his cut palm | |
| It sucks, it's nauseating dawn crawling with bugs | |
| They seem attracted to the matters of the morally snubbed | |
| See my ‘goodnight irene' massacred flat in the key of tragedy | |
| Whole diner like "I'll have he's having" | |
| All these tribes hoard breads and wines | |
| These climates transform men to swine | |
| All these hives hide knives and lead | |
| These bribes can't transform swine to men | |
| Today a thousand sea lions got up and left a pier | |
| They had successfully invaded and secured for 20 years | |
| Some said it was the food supply or shifting weather patterns | |
| Truthfully a whole community of scientists are baffled | |
| In '89 maybe 10 showed up at the wharf | |
| As if guided by the trident of poseidon to cavort | |
| Each a lumbering and boisterous glutton | |
| Like a half-ton annoyance ‘til the heart-warming story went public | |
| You'll need a montage, animals arriving in droves | |
| A bottom dollar turns a nuisance to the pride of your cove | |
| Which bring us back up to this morning when the colony dove | |
| I got a couple unsubstantiated thoughts of my own they go | |
| Maybe it'd feel more majestic and less fatty | |
| If a 12 year old wasn't beaning it with salt water taffy | |
| Every 5 ****ing seconds, sounds like your basic | |
| Liberating moment of collective "**** fame" shit | |
| All these tribes hoard breads and wines | |
| These climates transform men to swine | |
| All these hives hide knives and lead | |
| These bribes can't transform swine to men |
| I wear shoes to bed | |
| Paint teeth on my lips | |
| Trench foot, gangrened for the win | |
| Blitzkrieg bopper | |
| Petitioned out of shit' s creek proper | |
| The only inaccessible blip on the streaming doppler | |
| Screaming uncle' in a sea of | |
| TV doctors | |
| Free to occupy the same space in differing degrees of seedy commerce | |
| The shot is slow pan, monitor guffawing | |
| Flooded p. d. blotter under horizontal coffee | |
| More to follow, outside tweakers are in love | |
| Teeny Raquel | |
| Welch submarining through the blood, voyagers | |
| Poisoned or maybejust a misfit toy or two | |
| Depending on the beacon that your voyeurs choose | |
| That sorta hemming and hawing ll haunt your boiler rooms abysmally | |
| And kidnap rapid eyes in their infancy | |
| Everything his cutting room scrapped | |
| On a silver screen that throws gummy bears back, attack! | |
| All these tribes hoard breads and wines | |
| These climates transform men to swine | |
| All these hives hide knives and lead | |
| These bribes can' t transform swine to men | |
| Sensible sweater on ice | |
| Devil horns high | |
| Like shovels above a butter lamb with peppercorn eyes | |
| Vendettadrunk leader squealing " it' s the real pig fever" | |
| Sick people pinky swearing on concealed 6th fingers | |
| That' s idle handwork in the spirit of death dealers | |
| Look at mommy' s little | |
| Hercules Custom | |
| Troy Hurtubise | |
| Flourish in the blind spot of spittle county gore police | |
| Or really any readily ebbing and flowing war and peace 1 plain brown key foods bag head 2 holes later | |
| I' ll see to this loose flatbread | |
| Cats ed off, at exactly what cost | |
| The currency of brotherhood back in his cut palm | |
| It sucks, it' s nauseating dawn crawling with bugs | |
| They seem attracted to the matters of the morally snubbed | |
| See my goodnight irene' massacred flat in the key of tragedy | |
| Whole diner like " I' ll have he' s having" | |
| All these tribes hoard breads and wines | |
| These climates transform men to swine | |
| All these hives hide knives and lead | |
| These bribes can' t transform swine to men | |
| Today a thousand sea lions got up and left a pier | |
| They had successfully invaded and secured for 20 years | |
| Some said it was the food supply or shifting weather patterns | |
| Truthfully a whole community of scientists are baffled | |
| In ' 89 maybe 10 showed up at the wharf | |
| As if guided by the trident of poseidon to cavort | |
| Each a lumbering and boisterous glutton | |
| Like a halfton annoyance til the heartwarming story went public | |
| You' ll need a montage, animals arriving in droves | |
| A bottom dollar turns a nuisance to the pride of your cove | |
| Which bring us back up to this morning when the colony dove | |
| I got a couple unsubstantiated thoughts of my own they go | |
| Maybe it' d feel more majestic and less fatty | |
| If a 12 year old wasn' t beaning it with salt water taffy | |
| Every 5 ing seconds, sounds like your basic | |
| Liberating moment of collective " fame" shit | |
| All these tribes hoard breads and wines | |
| These climates transform men to swine | |
| All these hives hide knives and lead | |
| These bribes can' t transform swine to men |
| I wear shoes to bed | |
| Paint teeth on my lips | |
| Trench foot, gangrened for the win | |
| Blitzkrieg bopper | |
| Petitioned out of shit' s creek proper | |
| The only inaccessible blip on the streaming doppler | |
| Screaming uncle' in a sea of | |
| TV doctors | |
| Free to occupy the same space in differing degrees of seedy commerce | |
| The shot is slow pan, monitor guffawing | |
| Flooded p. d. blotter under horizontal coffee | |
| More to follow, outside tweakers are in love | |
| Teeny Raquel | |
| Welch submarining through the blood, voyagers | |
| Poisoned or maybejust a misfit toy or two | |
| Depending on the beacon that your voyeurs choose | |
| That sorta hemming and hawing ll haunt your boiler rooms abysmally | |
| And kidnap rapid eyes in their infancy | |
| Everything his cutting room scrapped | |
| On a silver screen that throws gummy bears back, attack! | |
| All these tribes hoard breads and wines | |
| These climates transform men to swine | |
| All these hives hide knives and lead | |
| These bribes can' t transform swine to men | |
| Sensible sweater on ice | |
| Devil horns high | |
| Like shovels above a butter lamb with peppercorn eyes | |
| Vendettadrunk leader squealing " it' s the real pig fever" | |
| Sick people pinky swearing on concealed 6th fingers | |
| That' s idle handwork in the spirit of death dealers | |
| Look at mommy' s little | |
| Hercules Custom | |
| Troy Hurtubise | |
| Flourish in the blind spot of spittle county gore police | |
| Or really any readily ebbing and flowing war and peace 1 plain brown key foods bag head 2 holes later | |
| I' ll see to this loose flatbread | |
| Cats ed off, at exactly what cost | |
| The currency of brotherhood back in his cut palm | |
| It sucks, it' s nauseating dawn crawling with bugs | |
| They seem attracted to the matters of the morally snubbed | |
| See my goodnight irene' massacred flat in the key of tragedy | |
| Whole diner like " I' ll have he' s having" | |
| All these tribes hoard breads and wines | |
| These climates transform men to swine | |
| All these hives hide knives and lead | |
| These bribes can' t transform swine to men | |
| Today a thousand sea lions got up and left a pier | |
| They had successfully invaded and secured for 20 years | |
| Some said it was the food supply or shifting weather patterns | |
| Truthfully a whole community of scientists are baffled | |
| In ' 89 maybe 10 showed up at the wharf | |
| As if guided by the trident of poseidon to cavort | |
| Each a lumbering and boisterous glutton | |
| Like a halfton annoyance til the heartwarming story went public | |
| You' ll need a montage, animals arriving in droves | |
| A bottom dollar turns a nuisance to the pride of your cove | |
| Which bring us back up to this morning when the colony dove | |
| I got a couple unsubstantiated thoughts of my own they go | |
| Maybe it' d feel more majestic and less fatty | |
| If a 12 year old wasn' t beaning it with salt water taffy | |
| Every 5 ing seconds, sounds like your basic | |
| Liberating moment of collective " fame" shit | |
| All these tribes hoard breads and wines | |
| These climates transform men to swine | |
| All these hives hide knives and lead | |
| These bribes can' t transform swine to men |
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