1+1=13
Scum of the earthly
I plug into the 1+1=13
Summer of love, sleep under a murder of crows
They saw the circle is lawn, poking at serpents and skulls
Working a curious beak
He's seeking mercy on his virtuous bones
We see the scene the type of jury that votes
I know you trying to find a little bit of math in your misfortune
Miss him with the supernatural
There has to be some order
There has to be some more to hoarding rabbits feet and wishbones
Horseshoes over door-frames, Feng Shui, fishbowls
Plant life dies when I bop through the glade
Docs lose hope, Popes burst into flames
I'm the worst
Crashed out crown made of black clouds
Troll-face roll snake eyes from a glass house
Passionately waiting in a sea of cursed funk
I'm a vacationing Brady where the tiki surfs up
If anybody out there show me a sign
Leaders of the free world blowing on dice
We load our bowls, we close our eyes
My bed got two wrong sides and a yawning
Dreamcatcher full of me falling, it's haunting
No causality, back the bad juju
It's act of irrationality
Brash and a tad cuckoo, at last
A little superstition stupify the hoard
Treating reasonable morns like warriors to unhorse
There is no amount of tourmalinated quartz
That would counter the disturbance in the force
Seeing doors
Flip a quarter ten times, count ten times tails
The four leaves fail, live from the slime trail
Where luck is a white whale
Love is a work of fiction
Amity is a service sold outside his jurisdiction
Sure his mercy is a myth and all the worlds there ever were
It's into curious insurgent to an early sepulcher and that sucks
Foxhole crashed
My two lucky socks don't match
My Hanzo's scratched
If anybody out there show me a sign
Leaders of the free world blowing on dice
We load our bowls, we close our eyes
Hey
When you wish upon a barn star
Deliver us from "nyuck, nyuck" and "hardy har har"
Deliver shady lady luck from the dark arts
She turn a basic straight shooter to a card shark, quick
I'm writing from the plight of the godless
Where pig and swap piety for shinier objects
And pretend to be a perfect pile of science and logic
Though it hasn't got us any less divided and conquered, look
The rock shock still knock on wood
No shame, still aim for the top of the food
Chain
My lucky sevens only ever make it up to six
Every three tries Satan kind of wins
Untied shoes aliven a wild goose
The winner is unrelenting, the kindling is fireproof
Got a face for radio, break a mirror every morn
Turn seven years into seven more
It's yours
If anybody out there show me a sign
Leaders of the free world blowing on dice
We load our bowls, we close our eyes
