Sanssouci Palace Lyrics
| Song | Sanssouci Palace |
| Artist | Milo |
| Album | A Toothpaste Suburb |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [Verse 1] | |
| I have been alone for several months on a verge of a level up | |
| Caught in a shifting paradigm | |
| I’ve known the strangest pains | |
| Played the language games | |
| And won a couple of pissing matches in my time | |
| Exchanging love tokens | |
| Redefining success to include what’s broken in my mind | |
| I’ve read the Wittgenstein | |
| And sat staring at the ceiling | |
| Wondering when I’m going to die | |
| I don’t need to be comforted | |
| I don’t need to be comforted | |
| [Verse 2] | |
| I don’t need comforts in the form of Avril Lavigne singles | |
| You’re the dude in clerks getting his hand caught in a canister of Pringles | |
| Imma Squidbillies animator | |
| Rap messiah agitator | |
| Chronic bathroom masturbater | |
| I wrote it so you could in fact predict it | |
| And later tell your friends you contributed to this picnic | |
| Then I dramatically took my mask off to reveal myself for what I am | |
| A confluence of cheap thrills | |
| An impersonator of Will.i.am | |
| With a mountain of messy used napkins by my desktop | |
| Inventor of a genre like Dubstep, but with less drop | |
| For breakfast a can of buttermilk biscuits | |
| A viscous nitwit | |
| Who picks at shit until he’s surrounded by broken idols | |
| In the twilight barricaded with bottles of open Midol | |
| Rider of waves tidal | |
| Writer of imaginary titles | |
| Like the Strider | |
| But with pants that I actually fit my thighs though |
| Verse 1 | |
| I have been alone for several months on a verge of a level up | |
| Caught in a shifting paradigm | |
| I' ve known the strangest pains | |
| Played the language games | |
| And won a couple of pissing matches in my time | |
| Exchanging love tokens | |
| Redefining success to include what' s broken in my mind | |
| I' ve read the Wittgenstein | |
| And sat staring at the ceiling | |
| Wondering when I' m going to die | |
| I don' t need to be comforted | |
| I don' t need to be comforted | |
| Verse 2 | |
| I don' t need comforts in the form of Avril Lavigne singles | |
| You' re the dude in clerks getting his hand caught in a canister of Pringles | |
| Imma Squidbillies animator | |
| Rap messiah agitator | |
| Chronic bathroom masturbater | |
| I wrote it so you could in fact predict it | |
| And later tell your friends you contributed to this picnic | |
| Then I dramatically took my mask off to reveal myself for what I am | |
| A confluence of cheap thrills | |
| An impersonator of Will. i. am | |
| With a mountain of messy used napkins by my desktop | |
| Inventor of a genre like Dubstep, but with less drop | |
| For breakfast a can of buttermilk biscuits | |
| A viscous nitwit | |
| Who picks at shit until he' s surrounded by broken idols | |
| In the twilight barricaded with bottles of open Midol | |
| Rider of waves tidal | |
| Writer of imaginary titles | |
| Like the Strider | |
| But with pants that I actually fit my thighs though |
| Verse 1 | |
| I have been alone for several months on a verge of a level up | |
| Caught in a shifting paradigm | |
| I' ve known the strangest pains | |
| Played the language games | |
| And won a couple of pissing matches in my time | |
| Exchanging love tokens | |
| Redefining success to include what' s broken in my mind | |
| I' ve read the Wittgenstein | |
| And sat staring at the ceiling | |
| Wondering when I' m going to die | |
| I don' t need to be comforted | |
| I don' t need to be comforted | |
| Verse 2 | |
| I don' t need comforts in the form of Avril Lavigne singles | |
| You' re the dude in clerks getting his hand caught in a canister of Pringles | |
| Imma Squidbillies animator | |
| Rap messiah agitator | |
| Chronic bathroom masturbater | |
| I wrote it so you could in fact predict it | |
| And later tell your friends you contributed to this picnic | |
| Then I dramatically took my mask off to reveal myself for what I am | |
| A confluence of cheap thrills | |
| An impersonator of Will. i. am | |
| With a mountain of messy used napkins by my desktop | |
| Inventor of a genre like Dubstep, but with less drop | |
| For breakfast a can of buttermilk biscuits | |
| A viscous nitwit | |
| Who picks at shit until he' s surrounded by broken idols | |
| In the twilight barricaded with bottles of open Midol | |
| Rider of waves tidal | |
| Writer of imaginary titles | |
| Like the Strider | |
| But with pants that I actually fit my thighs though |
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