stream this song | back to album page | back to homepage | buy this album on itunes Lobotomy Track 1 from "fresh blood" by proGrammar Chorus: Momma, momma, momma, please... The only thing I really need to see under the Christmas tree Is a gift certificate for me to go get a lobotomy. Then I'll be done with all these crazy thoughts that always seem to bother me. Momma, please... Yo, I'm tired of thinking. I'm tired of sinking into a deeper funk every time I'm blinking. In my mind I'm linking all this ish together In a way that would make most say, "Say, that's clever. I'da never thought to put it just like that." But what they're unaware of: Yo, the thoughts aren't fat. They don't know what comes and goes before it, after it. Mad laughter, and shit, which badgers my wits. I'd rather sit, spit, scratch, chew. Lay around all day and think of nothing to do. But, more importantly, a door from the Room of Other People's Deeds; bleeds for power and weeds and steeple-chase needs. People face me, and I face them, and we're human, and I recognize this, but they don't recognize shit. And I really have to wonder, "If torn asunder, could I possibly be as glossily happy as them?" A spasm racks my atlas as this very thought I'm capturing -- rapturing -- rapping! Strapping lad plugs the doorway. Stab him in the ribs so I can go my way. Momma, please... Chorus stream this song | back to album page | back to homepage | buy this album on itunes