E Numbers

Another stain, wipes, over the face
Of an entire, clutch, of reasonable guys
I flip a coin, seems, the luck has run out
It's 2:40 and the clocks are wrong

Another stain, matched, by the reward
Another work, made, to show off the pose
Another way, stop, and show some respect
For those trying and abandoning

I want something that, something that I can't see
Through the prism of stigmatism
With a white lie, the shrinking of its structure
Feed the kids, the E numbers
Feed the kids, the newscasters

Where do our tantrums go
Where do our tantrums go

She seemed to know how twisted is this
My back is ricked, spiked, down to the spine
Lie flat on floors, with vertebrae down
Pitch perfect like a slamming door

But when it comes I'll be prepared
This off course rain jostling down
Blaming the mind, or, anything close
You can't put it on forgetfulness, so

I want something that, something that I can't see
Through the prism of stigmatism
With a white lie, the shrinking of its structure
Feed the kids, the E numbers
Feed the kids, the newscasters

Where do our tantrums go
Where do our tantrums go
Where do our tantrums go
Where do our tantrums go

Zoom out at speeds with sharp intakes of breath
Heads spinning up in the corners
Closer than it even began

I want something that, something that I can't see
Through the prism of stigmatism
With a white lie, the shrinking of its structure
Feed the kids, the E numbers
Feed the kids, the newscasters

Where do our tantrums go
Where do our tantrums go
Where do our tantrums go
Where do our tantrums go