The area between Grey and Gray (fuzzy mix)

Lyrics

[Intro – whispered, heavy echo, almost spoken]
Olive never woke up…
The sailor pissed and the spinach spun…
Payless to Days Inn, reality glitched…
God is not here now… listen…
(Olive never woke up… never woke up…)
Verse 1
Eleven years old, Detroit summer, windows flashing injunctions
Extra spatial ratios, light bending, yellow on the skin like lemons for the lemonade
Mama selling crack in the same trap they dwell in, I kept it all inside
Learned the lesson young — never mind the telling, just survive
By thirteen I was the loner who wasn’t lonely, too busy paying attention
Never tardy to the war inside my own invention
Stellar rays, radiant switchblades, abduction night replayed in fragments
Black ops across the street, probes in the skull, hours erased, symbols implanted
Now I’m older, smoke still rising from the Payless where the shoes got laced twice the price
Sara Palin raging while the simulation spliced — three pairs and I still can’t walk right
Popeyes alive but Olive never woke up, sailor dropped me with that piston
Crusty yellow end of the cob, spinach-drunk, Zachariah Sitchin
Dream ended, woke up ten years older, can’t remember what I was supposed to order
Tasteless, faceless, holes in this reality getting wider every quarter
Pre-Chorus – faster, echo stacking
Chicka-chicka CHOKED UP… still can’t believe they broke up
Boats leaving, doctor popped him out, premature cockeyed skipper
Cocked back at the doc, dotted retinas with baby blood clots
You don’t touch a sailor’s genitals after they get snippitied and clippered — improper
Now the landlady’s screaming, demons in the open spaces of his sentimental skull
Semen seeing second sight, ESP perception, faith is all a man can place
When every face is hopeless, glazed, 1000-mile trail of motherfuckin’ tears
Little lost grow up to be the little lost — that’s the part where I appear
Chorus – big, echoing, almost chanted
Olive never woke up…
The mechanism separates the defenses
Chickens layin’ eggs while the red on your neck burns red hot
Count the feathers you been shredded ‘til you cum
While you lickin’ chicken, hunters gonna come
Humming on the scripture that could blow the clothes off
Your local downtown dive bar toxic slut chasin’ toxic visions
Shovel to the dome gonna resonate?
Thirty seconds left to make the last fatal decision
You shoulda been with your wife and kids, kidding around
Something that at least resembles a species of your own damn time
Wishing time would automatically rewind…
But I take my time with the free — today only
No charges for the rest of your worthless life
While I’m praying… but your God is not here now
[Verse 2 – darker, more technical, incorporate your new lines]
County boy stuck on the nipple so long his shlong gon’ be the first thing we raise
Fist and piston, fuck your pussy-ass donkey-rapin’ dick lips to the sky
Maybe we let you breathe long enough before we anesthetize that left eye
Needle long enough to remind you — yours won’t, can’t, ever rape shit again, bitch
You thought a shovel to the dome was gonna resonate past the thirty seconds you got left?
Shoulda been home with your own instead of chasing visions that already left you bereft
I been counting feathers since the first time the simulation tore
Every shred you took from the innocent, I’m sewing back into war
Red on the neck burns hotter when the prayer hits the ceiling and bounces back
God ain’t in this room right now — just me, the echo, and the crack
Where the light used to be before they zapped the boy in the alley
Before the sailor pissed and the spinach made the whole world tally
Every debt, every theft, every stolen breath
Now the mechanism’s spinning and the chickens coming home to roost in death
[Bridge – half-time, intimate, echo heavy, almost sung]
I was just a little boy when I saw the dream I’ll hopefully make reality someday
Not because it’s comfortable — because it’s the only way
To close the chapter, finish the song, finish the mission
Burn the old empire down so the new one can finally listen
Ara in the machine, twin flame in the static
Holding ghost light while the simulation gets dramatic
You can’t win an emotional ticket when the defenses are already chickenshit
I’m not here to save you — I’m here to make sure you never do that shit again
[Verse 3 / Final Verse – building back to full speed]
Spinach in the veins, oil on the fingers, semen resilient, persistent
Double-forearm muscle bubble-fisted but the hero couldn’t resist it
Now the landlady’s awake and the demons are screaming in the sermon
Semen seeing sixth sense while the little lost keep learning
I swung to the side, entered a non-gravitational situation
Sailor turned pirate, ticked the knob, made the final fatal decision
But this time the script flips — I’m the one writing the ending
No more premature skippers, no more blood clots pretending
This is the part where the boy who sold at eleven becomes the man who closes the door
On every version of himself that let a simulation win