Stone Sour - Omega on Lyrkit

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Omega

Omega

(album: Stone Sour - 2003)

What a skeletal wreck of man this is.
Translucent flesh and feeble bones,
The kind of temple where the whores and villains try to tempt the holistic tomes.

Running rampant with free thought to free form, and the free and clear.
And the matters at hand are shelled out like lint at a
Laundry mat to sift and focus on the bigger, better, now.

We all have a little sin that needs venting,
Virtues for the rending and laws and systems and stems are ripped from the branches of office.
Do you know what your post entails?
Do you serve a purpose, or purposely serve?

Wind down inside your atavistic galore
The value of a summer spent, and a winter earned.

For the rest of us, there is always Sunday.
The day of the week that reeks of rest
but all we do is catch our breath,
So we can wade naked into the bloody pool,
And place our hand on the big black book.
To watch the knives zig-zag between our aching fingers.

A vacation is a countdown
T minus your life and counting
Time to drag your tongue across the sugar cube,
And hope you get a taste.

What the fuck is all this for?
What the hell's going on?
Shut up!

I can go on and on, but let's move on, shall we?

Say, you're me, and I'm you
And they all watch the things we do,
And like a smack of spite they threw me down the stairs,
Haven't felt like this in years.
The great magnet of malicious magnanimous refuse
Let me go and plunge me into the dead spot again.

That's where you go when there's no one else around,
It's just you, and there was never anyone to begin with, now was there?

Sanctimonious pretentious dastardly bastards with their thumb on the pulse, and a finger on the trigger.

Classified my ass! That's a fucking secret, and you know it!

Government is another way to say better than you.
It's like ice but no pick
A murder charge that won't stick,
It's like a whole other world
Where you can smell the food,
But you can't touch the silverware.

Huh, what luck. Fascism you can vote for.
Humph, isn't that sweet?

And we're all gonna die some day
'Cause that's the American way,
And I've drunk too much, and said too little,
When your gaffer taped in the middle
Say a prayer, save face,
Get yourself together and see what's happening.
Shut up! Fuck you! Fuck you!

I'm sorry, I could go on and on
But it's time to move on
So, remember: you're a wreck, an accident.
Forget the freak, you're just nature.
Keep the gun oiled, and the temple clean
Shit snort, and blaspheme
Let the heads cool, and the engine run.
Because in the end everything we do is just everything we've done.

done