there's a new kind of touch in this time in this place
and it's all a bit much for this black and blue face
I've got nothing to carry, nothing to lose
and no one to blame for this big fake bruise

jumping the gun and waiting too long
just two of my sins, two ways I've gone wrong
whatever you want whatever you need
I'll tactfully pillage from the three I make bleed

one is the yard stick, one is the mason
one is the meek who'll inherit the nation
the rhyme goes crazy, the meter turns red
the reason is pacing back and forth in my head

 

my actions transparent, you know what I want
no need for those knives when you've got something blunt
the door will give in, the walls will come down
just blow me a kiss on your way out of town

the maps you are making, the roads that you draw
will make you less lonely, will sharpen your claws
for joining the tribal and feral coast nation
you'll blend right in with the empty sensations

one for the yard stick, one for the mason
one for the meek who'll inherit the nation
the rhyme is still wheezing, the meter is dead
the reason is babbling alone in in my head

 

when the time comes and you're feeling the pull
to move on with you life, snap out of the lull
you'll find that I'm busy fulfilling ambitions
with hippies or yuppies or mathematicians

will I drop what I'm doing and pick up the past
will you promise yourself, your full self at last
is that what I want, where I want us to go
or do I just want the chance to say no

once for the yard stick and once for the mason
once for the meek who'll inherit the nation
the rhyme has turned pleasing, the meter's not red
the reason's directing it all in my head