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The Bad Arts

de Destroyer

Absolve, absolve, absolve...
We spent the better part of a day waiting for the wave to hit our side of town
(It didn't).
Absolve, absolve, absolve...
I wash my hands of the stuff of legends.
And what news of the horizon?
I hear it's all just a horizontal myth,
so stop your cruising, start your criticizing!
Indulge yourself for once. Feel medium between them.
Goddamn your eyes.
They just had to be twin prizes waiting for the sun.
And goddamn your eyes.
They just had to be twin prizes waiting for the sun.
They just had to be twin prizes waiting for the sun.
See them sporting those eagle iron-ons you made me swear never to wear?
Why did you spend the 90's cowering?
Why did you spend the 90's cowering?
And they're singing those inspirationals you penned back in '72.
And the hotels of choice are now toasting your voice,
as the spas ring out,
"what's another word for 'sacrament?'"
The world woke up one day to proclaim:
"Thou shalt not take part in, or make, bad art."
In these tough, tough times friends like mine would rather dash than dine
on the bones of what's thrown to them...
When a wave of her wand has us back at the pond
taking notes for our crooked underground!
The world woke up one day to proclaim,
"Thou shalt not make or take part in the bad arts."
You see, the Singer sold us out.
The Guitarist lost his clout on Life-Of-The-Mind Day.
When signs become impure again, the crowd doesn't know where or when
to let it all hang out.
Bloodlet yourself, street style!!
You got the spirit. Don't lose the feeling

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