Night Sweats Video (MV)

Cold fist bone antics
I know this chromatic
So rote I'm in a hole
No throat but still I smoke
Cold fist bone antics
I know this chromatic
So rote I'm in a hole
No throat but still I smoke
Cold fist bone antics
I know this chromatic
So rote I'm in a hole
No throat but still I smoke
Cold fist bone antics
I know this chromatic
So rote I'm in a hole
No throat but still I smoke

The summer days are just fine I'm a bummer, stay inside
I see no sun or the sky I'm sitting up under a light
I'm listening wondering why I insist my rutter is dry
I'm dripping and gutters are wide but my prison's flutter in eyes
Precision covering sight of a psycho baked and so lonely
If only growth would just show up and take the cake and the donuts
Leave the faith and the onus and be remade not so boney
I feel so phony in old photos pics of my toes, you know, bogus
A frozen mope with this idea my life's a joke and I wrote it
That it ends with ropes and a punchline about my hopes in the lunchline
To be normal in form without the fear I'm performing, unwind
And breathe in the moment to find my feet have eroded
Impeding speed and I'm choking I see a dream as it's spoken
And all the weed I've been smoking believe I'm bleeding in throat, spin
And greet the emotions and blow them kisses though vicious
So witness open intestines my flesh is oh so nutritious

Cold fist bone antics
I know this chromatic
So rote I'm in a hole
No throat but still I smoke
Hopeless romantic
With no wits or plans, it's
As though the winds control
The soul and id we hold

My existence's a gift and I give it wholly to stories
I feel the source of persistence within my pen and the flooring
The earth is wet by my wording and gets so stiff from my diction
Mission and message of mercy perceived as pessimist penchant
Still in ascension just stretching release breath up to heaven
Bend at the knee to the people like I was Queen of the Seven
Eleven things I can think of that have been stranger than fiction
Wish I were Syd or could Switch it, permanent with no pinching
Towards amorphous though gorgeous and feel deformed at your horniest
Forfeit 'til changed and get Matrix, orgasm game on that Morpheus
Ignored the red and the blue shit without the fed to approve it
Excuse my usage of marijuana was honest reclusive
For two-ish years 'til appearance was well in tune with my music
Gel and swoon with the spirit 'til near and dear with the movement
Then cue the lyrics you hear it my broom is sweeping the nation
To be facetious my reach is as deep as creeks in the Basin

Hopeless romantic
With no wits or plans, it's
As though the winds control
The soul and id we hold
Hopeless romantic
With no wits or plans, it's
As though the winds control
The soul and id we hold
Hopeless romantic
With no wits or plans, it's
As though the winds control
The soul and id we hold