Balancing beam

[Verse 1:]
Uh
Yeah, uh, uh
I can't stress more the importance of how every tree is different
And I lose the light on the car drive as I push the book onto the linen
Drips of commonly-used ambergris smells rolls over the car window
And hits my face so as to mimic a teardrop
I should state, hyphen, this is stream-of-consciousness
And that is stream-of-consciousness
And that is stream-of (stop)
This is no longer stream-of-consciousness
I can't find love long time, so I don't really know what the problem is
There's a yanking on my collar and it
Hurts to be the bearer of burdens
A young father with a job and kids, I'd rather be a communist
I think I'll end the last page with a question mark
So as to metaphorically imply that this is only the start
Hate to be a cog, a soldier in a march
It gets colder in the South than it does to play a part
There's a heat wave in the North 'cause of Congo mining for carts
That I will never hit, transition - a woman, 'cause that's some stupid shit
If you do it, you're a bitch & deserve to get killed
Don't mind my underline, I'm just stressing the importance of my speech
Gory wounds bare holy knees & I time traveled to when you sucked on your mom's teats
I'll have a tea party with her in some Calvin Klein panties
Rather they're her panties, they are not mine

[Chorus:]
Every moment is important
Every word is a foreigner escaping post-modernist border hills
Every bar is hook, line and sinker, brick-and-mortar mill
Every image of dead women & children is important, still
Every moment is important
Every word is a foreigner escaping post-modernist border hills
Every bar is hook, line and sinker, brick-and-mortar mill
Every image of dead women & children is important, still

[Verse 2:]
Too much of life is moot or rather pointless
So wrapped in emotion, masked in the potent subtle lisps & whispers
Over religion, one might take chemicals as an anointment
Might as well schedule a doctor's appointment for colonoscopy
Perform a Rice purity test for your philosophy
Discover what unsouthern paraphilias you might rather be
What a sick fuck, huh
Sticking your cock & balls in boxes & socks
I'm eating green eggs & ham across the kitchen table
And perhaps listen to Aesop Rock tell a fable
Then I slept for four and a half hours as my left arm ached
My right arm is just a fingerlimb turning another page