"Follow That" lyrics

She's swingin' Thor's Hammer, maybe sick of your manners,
And I'm tryin to make a point, as if the score matters.
Slam. The door shatters. I'm hanging like some bored batters,
Flying out at night just to watch the whores scatter.

Sure. I tend to get stuck up in the rafters,
Drifting with my thoughts, caught up in disasters;
Whirlpools of slander, hurricane slam dancers
blur my brain faster, disturbing the gray matters.

I play the same casper I've played since day one:
A plaster-cast bastard trying to stay out of the sun.
Cool as alabaster, a pale-faced imitation,
Stacking up my chips, getting cracks in my foundation.

Untill I found salvation in an hour-glass maiden,
Took a sip and couldn't quit--I love the way she tasted.
Couldn't flip the wasting, witness disintegration;
cryptic communications got me twisted up and faded

So we build it up just to break it down.
Thinking about thinking, getting over and around.
We build it up just to break it down.
As soon as we get up, we're thinking about getting down.

But when she laughs, she shakes the ground, so
Catch me sitting silent, trying to embrace the sound.
I'm waking now, breaking down every detail I've found
Deciphering heiroglyphics--a pyro and a mystic.

Missle silos stand, mimic the war of Roses and Cynics,
but all's fair, I guess. Stack up the matches and gimics.
We package each shipment to distract all the minions, and
it looks great from a distance, but there's cracks in the finish.

I've mastered the method of packing up imperfections,
Sweep dust under the carpet, a closet full of resurrections,
Heart beneath the floorboards, brain in the freezer section,
So I can ignore all the problems for my own greedy protection.

The resulting situation's made of cheap imitations,
Never gettin deep enough to complete the equation.
All the numbers I get merely add to the frustration
'Cause I know if I call you up, I risk over-stimulation.

This game of cat and mouse got me savage with doubt.
I've got so much to say that I may never let get out.
And part of me thinks I should just break down and speak,
But Time is usually a better cure for this type of disease.

Its never enough to ease the breakdown.
Please never give up--my dreams are fake now
These treasures will rust. We need to break out.
Sleep. Tremors. Combust. Bleed the pain out.

So where you at?
Where's the bears and big cats?
What's the haps?
What damage is smashing your side of the map?
Lost in the woods,
Bread crumbs swallowed by bats.
Listen to your heart beat.

How about you follow that?