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Underachiever - Qwel lyrics

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[Verse 1]

The space it takes to time travel ain't worth the effort

Mic saddle mastadons to find Babylon the network

As clear as it seems hi-fi makes it perfect

This pyramid scheme with the eye at the vertex

Serpents smell with your tongues and wait for blackouts

Yo, for sure sex sells check wealth at the crack house

Appachis don't stop, but the candle burns

at both ends while most men just channel surf

It's gonna take more then folded hands to part the skies

So lets drown from the ground up

Imperfection starts with I

am god and god's not hard rock or worthy slaves

Surfer make the paper sleep late, pray for early graves

I hope we catch ebola, just what man deserves

Built god with satellites, but couldn't handle earth

It'll flood 'till the blood spills, but you still wouldn't believe it

No control, alt, delete it

I'm on my way to be it

The time it takes to space travel ain't worth the distance

If I could reach the remote from here then I convert the mission

Worse then vision splitting headaches

What man's set on looking?

These books are too heavy, plus the antenna's crooked

The batteries are drained, I think I'll wait it out

But way the pounds of apathy, I think I hate this couch

We can slouch into a fetus, all we need is television

With long spoons to feed us sex and exorcism

Internet access to find our souls

E-mail me dogs, cynical smiles and barcodes

Homes are only shelters, only shelves of a man

Remote is where the heart is, the heart is gettin' bent

Yo, we can start right now, here in Chi-town

I'll die if you have to, you know I'm down

With an automatic bag of chips, the honeybun's out

What channels the revolution on? the motherfucking couch

[Verse 2]

Cameras for the crips, like gifts for the thieves

When he's only fifteen and got a tip from his seeds

So whats kid gonna read, when clips is magazines?

When god drowns we;re surrounded by fags and fiends

Rapping teen actors on the magic screen

Lies for halftime, why's he laughin' at me?

Let the smoke flow out through his platic speech

Patching dream jobs for slaves, saving half the fee

Hack the feet off, at the khaki cuff

Need batteries for windows, 'cause reality sucks

Half to give up something right?

The library's sold, meet us on the ones and twos in binary code

Hypnotize my mind, is it time to explode?

Is my spine a remote, or am I in control?

As I portray this wisdom image actor see

But why's this plastic thing, pointed back at me

Pointed back at me (pointed back at me)
If It Ain't Been in the Pawn Shop, Then It Can't Play the Blues album
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See also: Quest for Fire lyrics, lyrics, Proof 101 lyrics, Hall of Mirrors lyrics, The Highest Commitment lyrics, Harriet Tubman lyrics, Art of War lyrics, Brick Walls lyrics, by Qwel lyrics