Garbage

In a city of garbage trying to reap the harvest
Adaptation is the trap in which the artist meets the forest
Swing you're little ax, or be an oak tree if you can
Either way, adapt to circumstance or play your final hand

You don't know enigma
An attempt to bury the hatchet rendered me victim of deviltry
Plus wounded like stigmatics
Something's huffing hazardous
I smell an inch of difference in this morning's pollution pistons
And how the loose ends drifted
My sour patch institution slipped in amidst the invaders and pardon my tone
But this garden's grown fucking acres since my last visit
Itching to count the layers in the blizzard
'Til that chapter where my family inserts the dagger and twisted
It's a carnival
Have you any sweets for my weary kin? It's a carnival
Have you any feed for my cheery grin? It's a carnival
Welcome, play our games, you'll never win
Cuz it's that carnival where every freak show spectacle's your friend
And I'm a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas
Anti-freeze to glacier, cook in a look of fiery nature
It's the ceiling feeling to heavy to bliss the I-beams for a fraction more
Collapsed and left 'I'm sorry' tacked to you door
Pitching my back to hell's kitchen
Back burner murder machinery released regardless of the pardons
Hitching my life to the lease of one minstrel
Sick of same window different visual
Same agnostic hostage different ritual
Plague, cooperative super colony clash
I heard you got a dust collection, lemmme see it
I duel as underdog vs. forced adaptation to the marvels of the now
Since then, my knuckles haven't once dragged on the ground

CHORUS