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Qwel - Underachiever lyrics
* send corrections to the typist
 [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 televisionQwel - Underachiever - http://motolyrics.com/qwel/underachiever-lyrics.html
 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 what's 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)





















