Teeth

Yeah, alright Electrified harmonious I think I'll take it out to the streets Will somebody please help me? Call the doctor but don't call the police Yeah, cool Are you into the beat? Are you into the beat? I can feel it in my teeth I can feel it in my teeth I can feel it in my teeth And it's driving me mad I can feel it in my teeth I can feel it in my teeth And it's driving me crazy It's driving me crazy It's driving me mad I wish I were an astronaut Space-case making the scene, yeah Put me in a hospital Lock me up and throw out the key Hey, hey, hey, hey Are you into the beat? I'm the king of the beat I can feel it in my teeth I can feel it in my teeth I can feel it in my teeth And it's driving me mad I can feel it in my teeth I can feel it in my teeth And it's driving me crazy It's driving me crazy Now, shut up and dance I can feel it in my teeth I can feel it in my teeth And it's driving me mad I can feel it in my teeth, ooh I can feel it in my teeth And it's driving me crazy It's driving me crazy It's driving me mad Yeah, yeah We live in an environment whose entire population of critics And no painters to be found Where have all the storytellers gone? Just when did I become so eaten up by moss And covered in a cloak of popularity? And then I lose my voice In between the echoes of self-serving prophecy A captain without his ship A chief, a chief without a tribe A raging megalomaniac who only speaks to hear his cheeks slap together and worship the sound of his own voice A muffled cry—a muffled cry—a muffled cry—a muffled cry Power con—caved inside a woman To configure through the mythical power of the trees The graphics being paper th- Paper thin garments and garments and garments And garments and garments and garments And garments and garments Pray for summer days The rain and wind is so strong outside my window And winter's always searching for another I hear, I hear his cheeks slap together And worship his own voice Lou—louder? Okay, alright I'm so tired of the demands of this world Her nagging voice The song she sings, the songs that she desires She cries out in the heat of her passions Her legs spread ready for—ready for a stranger The captain without his ship A chief w—a chief without a tribe A raging megalomaniac who only speaks to hear his cheeks slap together and worship the sound of his own voice I dare not take another drink until it's gone Just when did I become so eaten up by moss And covered in a cloak of popularity? When I lose my voice in between the echoes of self-serving prophecy