| Song | Teleprompters |
| Artist | The Uncluded |
| Album | Hokey Fright (Deluxe Version) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [Verse 1: Kimya Dawson] | |
| Ever since I was a kid | |
| On the backs of my two eyelids | |
| I hid two Teleprompters there | |
| Transmitting words from who knows where | |
| Walkie-talkie on a mission | |
| Roger, roger will I listen | |
| Or will I just pass it along | |
| No form of a sing-a-long | |
| When muse annoys, devoid and null | |
| I feel a tingle in my skull | |
| Like ticker tape the words appear | |
| There’s a parade between my ears | |
| I preach self-love I know it’s true | |
| It’s easier to say than do | |
| I send the messages to you | |
| But now I need to hear them too | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| [Verse 2: Aesop Rock] | |
| I was laying bricks in a line | |
| Yap full of dog toy | |
| Picturing a life beyond that of a protocol joy | |
| Bleep bloop boy ox boycott pea soup | |
| First learn to eat pain at St. Peter’s preschool-yum | |
| Now that’s a painkiller I can speak through | |
| Airbrush letters on a pristine gene pool | |
| See my mother said her father drew a ton | |
| But all his cartoons had been swallowed by the Susquehanna flood | |
| Instead of two | |
| The end he would subsequently pass | |
| I know he had a stroke but I assume that’s only half | |
| But now I’m signing up for finger-drawing class in a tux like a gentleman | |
| Marrying his ash to his dust | |
| Last on the kickball team draft pick-list | |
| First to the King Kullen practicing his kickflips | |
| I’d like to say it’s ‘cause I was a rebel | |
| Truthfully it’s easier to say “oh hell” instead of “hello” | |
| Hi, you need to get out more | |
| I dunno, I don’t wanna be there when the geometry domino | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Maybe, or maybe his pace is better suited for pacing | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Never I am nailed to the floor-I am snail under pressure | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Fine | |
| [Verse 3: Kimya Dawson] | |
| Ever since I was a kid | |
| On the backs of my two eyelids | |
| I hid two Teleprompters there | |
| Transmitting words from who knows where | |
| And this is why when I’m on stage | |
| My eyes are closed I’m in a haze | |
| It looks like I’m made out of clay | |
| I’m overwhelmed and under-glazed | |
| I’m making vases out of snakes | |
| I’m a kiln half-full of mistakes | |
| When kneading it, air’s overlooked | |
| It’s gonna crack when it gets cooked | |
| So self-forgiveness is the key | |
| They’re re-sculpting my sanity | |
| Mindfulness, humility | |
| And taking time to care for me | |
| I preach self-love I know it’s true | |
| It’s easier to say than do | |
| I sing these messages to you | |
| But now I need to hear them too | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| [Verse 4: Aesop Rock] | |
| I was laying bricks in a line | |
| Yap full of copper-top | |
| Picturing a life beyond that of a dish-washer | |
| Pot buzz ping | |
| Criss-crossed arms in a tub ring | |
| Learned heartbreak on a Zelda-1 sub screen-numb | |
| Learned dark days by the scent of poached dove meat | |
| Some part ways and it’s fugly | |
| Maybe the sum of the parts became lesser | |
| That each individual be making the same gesture | |
| And you don’t wanna be there for the overlapping network | |
| So you throw a bag together and elope with cabin pressure | |
| To disappear instead of interfere with nutty customs | |
| And differing definitions of liberty and justice | |
| Big dummy dig a hole in the dirt | |
| He put his head in the hole; he is alone in this world | |
| And dying slowly from the comfort of his home full of worms | |
| Until you hear a little voice say “yo let’s go get dessert” | |
| Wait-what? | |
| You need to get out more | |
| I dunno-over 2 million dead bats in NY alone | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Maybe, maybe not | |
| Maybe I should stay back and survey the lot | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Never I am nailed to the floor in a jail made of deserts | |
| You need to get out more | |
| OK |
| Verse 1: Kimya Dawson | |
| Ever since I was a kid | |
| On the backs of my two eyelids | |
| I hid two Teleprompters there | |
| Transmitting words from who knows where | |
| Walkietalkie on a mission | |
| Roger, roger will I listen | |
| Or will I just pass it along | |
| No form of a singalong | |
| When muse annoys, devoid and null | |
| I feel a tingle in my skull | |
| Like ticker tape the words appear | |
| There' s a parade between my ears | |
| I preach selflove I know it' s true | |
| It' s easier to say than do | |
| I send the messages to you | |
| But now I need to hear them too | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| Verse 2: Aesop Rock | |
| I was laying bricks in a line | |
| Yap full of dog toy | |
| Picturing a life beyond that of a protocol joy | |
| Bleep bloop boy ox boycott pea soup | |
| First learn to eat pain at St. Peter' s preschoolyum | |
| Now that' s a painkiller I can speak through | |
| Airbrush letters on a pristine gene pool | |
| See my mother said her father drew a ton | |
| But all his cartoons had been swallowed by the Susquehanna flood | |
| Instead of two | |
| The end he would subsequently pass | |
| I know he had a stroke but I assume that' s only half | |
| But now I' m signing up for fingerdrawing class in a tux like a gentleman | |
| Marrying his ash to his dust | |
| Last on the kickball team draft picklist | |
| First to the King Kullen practicing his kickflips | |
| I' d like to say it' s ' cause I was a rebel | |
| Truthfully it' s easier to say " oh hell" instead of " hello" | |
| Hi, you need to get out more | |
| I dunno, I don' t wanna be there when the geometry domino | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Maybe, or maybe his pace is better suited for pacing | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Never I am nailed to the floorI am snail under pressure | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Fine | |
| Verse 3: Kimya Dawson | |
| Ever since I was a kid | |
| On the backs of my two eyelids | |
| I hid two Teleprompters there | |
| Transmitting words from who knows where | |
| And this is why when I' m on stage | |
| My eyes are closed I' m in a haze | |
| It looks like I' m made out of clay | |
| I' m overwhelmed and underglazed | |
| I' m making vases out of snakes | |
| I' m a kiln halffull of mistakes | |
| When kneading it, air' s overlooked | |
| It' s gonna crack when it gets cooked | |
| So selfforgiveness is the key | |
| They' re resculpting my sanity | |
| Mindfulness, humility | |
| And taking time to care for me | |
| I preach selflove I know it' s true | |
| It' s easier to say than do | |
| I sing these messages to you | |
| But now I need to hear them too | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| Verse 4: Aesop Rock | |
| I was laying bricks in a line | |
| Yap full of coppertop | |
| Picturing a life beyond that of a dishwasher | |
| Pot buzz ping | |
| Crisscrossed arms in a tub ring | |
| Learned heartbreak on a Zelda1 sub screennumb | |
| Learned dark days by the scent of poached dove meat | |
| Some part ways and it' s fugly | |
| Maybe the sum of the parts became lesser | |
| That each individual be making the same gesture | |
| And you don' t wanna be there for the overlapping network | |
| So you throw a bag together and elope with cabin pressure | |
| To disappear instead of interfere with nutty customs | |
| And differing definitions of liberty and justice | |
| Big dummy dig a hole in the dirt | |
| He put his head in the hole he is alone in this world | |
| And dying slowly from the comfort of his home full of worms | |
| Until you hear a little voice say " yo let' s go get dessert" | |
| Waitwhat? | |
| You need to get out more | |
| I dunnoover 2 million dead bats in NY alone | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Maybe, maybe not | |
| Maybe I should stay back and survey the lot | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Never I am nailed to the floor in a jail made of deserts | |
| You need to get out more | |
| OK |
| Verse 1: Kimya Dawson | |
| Ever since I was a kid | |
| On the backs of my two eyelids | |
| I hid two Teleprompters there | |
| Transmitting words from who knows where | |
| Walkietalkie on a mission | |
| Roger, roger will I listen | |
| Or will I just pass it along | |
| No form of a singalong | |
| When muse annoys, devoid and null | |
| I feel a tingle in my skull | |
| Like ticker tape the words appear | |
| There' s a parade between my ears | |
| I preach selflove I know it' s true | |
| It' s easier to say than do | |
| I send the messages to you | |
| But now I need to hear them too | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| Verse 2: Aesop Rock | |
| I was laying bricks in a line | |
| Yap full of dog toy | |
| Picturing a life beyond that of a protocol joy | |
| Bleep bloop boy ox boycott pea soup | |
| First learn to eat pain at St. Peter' s preschoolyum | |
| Now that' s a painkiller I can speak through | |
| Airbrush letters on a pristine gene pool | |
| See my mother said her father drew a ton | |
| But all his cartoons had been swallowed by the Susquehanna flood | |
| Instead of two | |
| The end he would subsequently pass | |
| I know he had a stroke but I assume that' s only half | |
| But now I' m signing up for fingerdrawing class in a tux like a gentleman | |
| Marrying his ash to his dust | |
| Last on the kickball team draft picklist | |
| First to the King Kullen practicing his kickflips | |
| I' d like to say it' s ' cause I was a rebel | |
| Truthfully it' s easier to say " oh hell" instead of " hello" | |
| Hi, you need to get out more | |
| I dunno, I don' t wanna be there when the geometry domino | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Maybe, or maybe his pace is better suited for pacing | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Never I am nailed to the floorI am snail under pressure | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Fine | |
| Verse 3: Kimya Dawson | |
| Ever since I was a kid | |
| On the backs of my two eyelids | |
| I hid two Teleprompters there | |
| Transmitting words from who knows where | |
| And this is why when I' m on stage | |
| My eyes are closed I' m in a haze | |
| It looks like I' m made out of clay | |
| I' m overwhelmed and underglazed | |
| I' m making vases out of snakes | |
| I' m a kiln halffull of mistakes | |
| When kneading it, air' s overlooked | |
| It' s gonna crack when it gets cooked | |
| So selfforgiveness is the key | |
| They' re resculpting my sanity | |
| Mindfulness, humility | |
| And taking time to care for me | |
| I preach selflove I know it' s true | |
| It' s easier to say than do | |
| I sing these messages to you | |
| But now I need to hear them too | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| I am beautiful I am powerful I am strong and I am loveable | |
| Verse 4: Aesop Rock | |
| I was laying bricks in a line | |
| Yap full of coppertop | |
| Picturing a life beyond that of a dishwasher | |
| Pot buzz ping | |
| Crisscrossed arms in a tub ring | |
| Learned heartbreak on a Zelda1 sub screennumb | |
| Learned dark days by the scent of poached dove meat | |
| Some part ways and it' s fugly | |
| Maybe the sum of the parts became lesser | |
| That each individual be making the same gesture | |
| And you don' t wanna be there for the overlapping network | |
| So you throw a bag together and elope with cabin pressure | |
| To disappear instead of interfere with nutty customs | |
| And differing definitions of liberty and justice | |
| Big dummy dig a hole in the dirt | |
| He put his head in the hole he is alone in this world | |
| And dying slowly from the comfort of his home full of worms | |
| Until you hear a little voice say " yo let' s go get dessert" | |
| Waitwhat? | |
| You need to get out more | |
| I dunnoover 2 million dead bats in NY alone | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Maybe, maybe not | |
| Maybe I should stay back and survey the lot | |
| You need to get out more | |
| Never I am nailed to the floor in a jail made of deserts | |
| You need to get out more | |
| OK |