Correction Lyrics Poor Pavel by Hail Mary Mallon

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Lyrics

Poor Pavel
Even though your mom’s a model
You walk these streets panhandling, for a gold bottle
Call your moms bro, your dad’s a deadbeat
So it’s up to you and us to be a man of the house
Can’t you see, see?
It’s the others are attached to what we saying here Pavel
It’s the others are attached to what we saying here Pavel
It’s the others are attached to what we saying here Pavel
Poor Pavel, guess them turntables do wobble

I’m Florian Schneider
A valеdictorian choreographing psyche mental bindеrs
That try for the (?) or go with the flow like bouncing ball reminders
We out here, we giveth, we taketh away if you are cruel not kinder
Influencer insider, what a time this is
Where the business-minded hybrid lives
Where dreams may come and go
Where the wild things are and do they biz
In Hoff-like, environment
Goth spikes, retirement
Moth dust, colodipen
Shook ones, try again
My philosophy lingo
My wardrobe was forged by God herself
I’m a God myself though
Imma guide myself, don’t need no help
Re-encompass those trumpets you hear
In clouds and also bells hourly
Forensic Files on the Vatican tiles or mob wives devour thee
A striking resemblance to Cersei, they b*t*h face, we b*t*h face
They witch mage, which witch page will you end up on?
‘Cause we on the front
The small winded version of farewells and so longs
From us to those who tend to carry on in they merry song

Poor Pavel
Even though your mom’s a model
You walk these streets panhandling, for a gold bottle
Call your moms bro, your dad’s a deadbeat
So it’s up to you and us to be a man of the house
Can’t you see, see?
It’s the others are attached to what we saying here Pavel
It’s the others are attached to what we saying here Pavel
It’s the others are attached to what we saying here Pavel
Poor Pavel, guess them turntables do wobble

My pits smell like an Arthur Ave deli
My wits end in a larger cat’s belly
My starter cap's filthy and my angel’s got eyes
On the butterscotch cookies and the tabletop pies
Wave the lost, (?) another week without weddings
My caterers are laborers or beaten down weapons
And acid-washed denims in their emblems don’t match
So we feed ‘em to the heathens that are several rows back
Get the Bozack [?] ain’t nothing but time
To waste away the database and cut in lunch lines
Coming up blind in the bamboo garage
With some old 45s and a brand new Naväge
King commérage, keep the stardust glitters
My elbows turn to jello in my spark plug slippers
If Karma’s such a b*t*h I wish she settled this sh*t
With them Scooby Doo zealots and them meddling kids

Poor Pavel
Even though your mom’s a model
You walk these streets panhandling, for a gold bottle
Call your moms bro, your dad’s a deadbeat
So it’s up to you and us to be a man of the house
Can’t you see, see?
It’s the others are attached to what we saying here Pavel
It’s the others are attached to what we saying here Pavel
It’s the others are attached to what we saying here Pavel
Poor Pavel, guess them turntables do wobble

If I’m horizontal eight hours on a thousand nails
Waking up and spoiling pudding, p*ss into the howling gales
It’s howling back and how to zero in on whence the alpha hails
Smoke ‘em out, show ‘em what a little cat and mouse entails
Or we can fast forward to a feline full of mouse entrails
The tail hanging from his mouth, turn a bouncer pale
The bones floating in his vomit turn a bully green
You sweating bullets homie, pull up, I start pulling weeds
No-dozer, home with drones over
Old stoner, crows on both shoulders
Skeleton boat rowers in the city on shore leave
Breaking down doors, swinging oars at some poor dame
Throwing horns up, jumping on parked cars
Fork out, the (?) looking like tartar
Birds eye on the (?) for the final shot
Dark star brightest, Dark Time Sunshine o’clock

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