Tekster: El-P. Fantastic Damage. Fantastic Damage.

(now the evening has come to a close
and I've had my last dance with you
so on to the empty streets with me
and it might be my last chance with you
so I might as well get it over with
the things I have to say
won't wait until another day)

Shut up
Whoooooo
Whoooooo
Whoooooo
Check this out

The Fabulous structure that's coaxed out of rubbles puddles splash
Mechanisms burn with beeping sounds that own their humans sold as
ruthless rounds of radio dust, Cranial mush, men get flattened out
radials spun on dusted combatant joust
after house of the dead heads fled, it's just the city moans
Malignant kid in it with sentence of sinister conferred
Magna-funk asbestos, the best at closed-quarters shit
Some will gravitate to the falcon and burn in wordlessness
hangin' with the herd is my joy
we buoy ordertake employ
When the farmers feed the murder rate ploy
we stow collected rebel factions in dirt and just follow
the citizens all love to be loved, we just follow
figure they ate the kids, homey
so fuck em save the adults
Kids are patriotic, robotic, operate catapults
And goose-step over innocence
Vagrant of Reaganomics phasing
Read the books that will burn at the barn raising
(Independent like a fuck) (Oh, Jesus)
You misinterpreted that Funcrush shit
So man, funcrush this
spectacular dawning of the heardthinner faction where distraction is bliss
Tyrell took a sabatical but back for the new semester (rockin that)
class action suit from the Laundromat of velour and pressed polyester
American history exo-bytes cypher with the tainted offspring, gimme nodos quick
you need to haul that mega-dumb style to the antique roadshow, bitch
the system bleeds for the radio angry, rock that wound aesthetic
the name of this routine is live at man you just don't get it
please try to compartmentalize my dick
with a little bit a that bitch hubris
when the ritalin starts to fade I might get lucid
every mindfuck i handout comes with a free month of internet access
and an updated year 2003 version of the mega clapper (you know the drill, clap off)
this is the third installment of a prequel that was never written right
filmed with that classic Brooklyn magic, without Lucasarts graphics

rendered cuddly comic relief creatures or terrible child actors
get off that jade elephant, you're stoned, and remember everything backwards