Dear Sirs Lyrics
| Song | Dear Sirs |
| Artist | El-P |
| Album | I'll Sleep When You're Dead |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : El P | |
| dear sirs: | |
| if the pavement comes alive on flatbush ave with toothy smile | |
| comprised of traffic cones and manholes become eyes, | |
| and birds burst into flames while singing satan's praises and fold into | |
| the sky and rain down ashy danger, | |
| if every office empties and all slaves walk in dazes to a pool of | |
| liquid money where they bathe blissfully naked and | |
| drugs no longer taunt me and flooze around my conscience and every | |
| woman beating rapist is securely in their coffins and | |
| every open hydrant in a brooklyn time summer moment is opened up by | |
| cops and folds out into an ocean | |
| and rent is payed by bread literally and parking ins't payed for and | |
| food stamps can be planted and childhoods cant be damaged, | |
| if fire can power space ships that safely ship the creators of | |
| dynamite and gun powder to the graves of all who faced it and | |
| the slurping nerf of bureaucrat life and bean counting slave owners is | |
| twisted in on itself until they shave off their own faces | |
| and the coke and crack in the nation is collected in a top hat and | |
| forcefed to the children of every cia agent and the dust heads get an | |
| angel and an acre's worth of rainbow and the projects turn to clouds | |
| and the stupid aren't so proud, | |
| and the sniveling grimace mongrels of infected money slobbing | |
| pesticrats ignite into a brilliant beam of light | |
| and mercy is the rule and the exception's mercy too and the desert | |
| comes to brooklyn and the president goes to school | |
| time flows in reverse, death becomes my birth, me fighting | |
| in your war is still, by a large margin, the least likely thing that will ever | |
| fucking happen | |
| ever. |
| zuo ci : El P | |
| dear sirs: | |
| if the pavement comes alive on flatbush ave with toothy smile | |
| comprised of traffic cones and manholes become eyes, | |
| and birds burst into flames while singing satan' s praises and fold into | |
| the sky and rain down ashy danger, | |
| if every office empties and all slaves walk in dazes to a pool of | |
| liquid money where they bathe blissfully naked and | |
| drugs no longer taunt me and flooze around my conscience and every | |
| woman beating rapist is securely in their coffins and | |
| every open hydrant in a brooklyn time summer moment is opened up by | |
| cops and folds out into an ocean | |
| and rent is payed by bread literally and parking ins' t payed for and | |
| food stamps can be planted and childhoods cant be damaged, | |
| if fire can power space ships that safely ship the creators of | |
| dynamite and gun powder to the graves of all who faced it and | |
| the slurping nerf of bureaucrat life and bean counting slave owners is | |
| twisted in on itself until they shave off their own faces | |
| and the coke and crack in the nation is collected in a top hat and | |
| forcefed to the children of every cia agent and the dust heads get an | |
| angel and an acre' s worth of rainbow and the projects turn to clouds | |
| and the stupid aren' t so proud, | |
| and the sniveling grimace mongrels of infected money slobbing | |
| pesticrats ignite into a brilliant beam of light | |
| and mercy is the rule and the exception' s mercy too and the desert | |
| comes to brooklyn and the president goes to school | |
| time flows in reverse, death becomes my birth, me fighting | |
| in your war is still, by a large margin, the least likely thing that will ever | |
| fucking happen | |
| ever. |
| zuò cí : El P | |
| dear sirs: | |
| if the pavement comes alive on flatbush ave with toothy smile | |
| comprised of traffic cones and manholes become eyes, | |
| and birds burst into flames while singing satan' s praises and fold into | |
| the sky and rain down ashy danger, | |
| if every office empties and all slaves walk in dazes to a pool of | |
| liquid money where they bathe blissfully naked and | |
| drugs no longer taunt me and flooze around my conscience and every | |
| woman beating rapist is securely in their coffins and | |
| every open hydrant in a brooklyn time summer moment is opened up by | |
| cops and folds out into an ocean | |
| and rent is payed by bread literally and parking ins' t payed for and | |
| food stamps can be planted and childhoods cant be damaged, | |
| if fire can power space ships that safely ship the creators of | |
| dynamite and gun powder to the graves of all who faced it and | |
| the slurping nerf of bureaucrat life and bean counting slave owners is | |
| twisted in on itself until they shave off their own faces | |
| and the coke and crack in the nation is collected in a top hat and | |
| forcefed to the children of every cia agent and the dust heads get an | |
| angel and an acre' s worth of rainbow and the projects turn to clouds | |
| and the stupid aren' t so proud, | |
| and the sniveling grimace mongrels of infected money slobbing | |
| pesticrats ignite into a brilliant beam of light | |
| and mercy is the rule and the exception' s mercy too and the desert | |
| comes to brooklyn and the president goes to school | |
| time flows in reverse, death becomes my birth, me fighting | |
| in your war is still, by a large margin, the least likely thing that will ever | |
| fucking happen | |
| ever. |
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