One Day to Fly (My Cover Mix1) not for rental

LYRICS

She don’t text me back ‘cause she’s full of air
But at least she don’t cry when I forget she’s there
Her seams don’t bust when I talk too loud
And she don’t fake smiles when my jokes fall down

I patched her up with bike glue twice
She still holds love better than ice

Inflatable sheep, you’re quiet and strong
No passive aggression, just vinyl and song
You never compare me to dudes from the gym
And you don’t mind the smell when the lights get dim

She don’t bring up my mother in fights
Or move her toothbrush in passive slights
She folds up neat in the bottom drawer
And she don’t keep tabs on the girl next door

She don't ghost, just slowly deflate
But at least I know it's not 'cause of hate

Inflatable sheep, you’re lighter than pain
You don’t keep secrets or act insane
You don’t wear heels that ruin my floor
And you never say "we need to talk" at the door

We danced once, beneath ceiling fans
Till I slipped and crushed you, deflating our plans
But a patch and a prayer and a half-hour wait—
You came back to me, not even late

She never lied, she never strayed
She just obeyed the air I gave

Inflatable sheep, you wobble with grace
You don’t roll eyes or judge my face
You don’t need space, you just need air
And you never ask why I never care

The silence is better than screaming in cars
You don’t mind I still sleep in socks with holes
You never want brunch or horoscope scars
And you don’t read poems—just fill empty roles

Some say I’m broken, alone with a toy
But you gave more peace than any real boy

Inflatable sheep, you’re the best I’ve had
Even if my therapist calls it a fad
You were cheap, you were real in a vacuumed way
And you never once ruined my birthday

Inflatable Sheep Don't Bleat

Greg the Squirrel Owes Me Gas Money

LYRICS:

Woke up in curd-stained corduroy
Magazine deadline, dairy boy
Pasteurized thoughts in a coffee shop
Chewing on fate like it might just stop

But the hypno said, Close your eyes
And Odesa poured through saline skies

Thy grave is in Odesa, beneath the salted air
I saw myself in sailorskin, with brie inside my hair
The port was grey and silent, I drowned without a sound
Now I write of cottage cheese, six feet beneath the ground

Booked a flight on Air Monotreams
Luggage full of empty Ziploc dreams
Found the street from that old dream-map
A stray dog stared, then turned his back

Spoke to waves and whispered, Me?
A fishing hook caught destiny

Thy grave is in Odesa, the tide pulled back too slow
I tripped into a market stall, struck by a thrown potato
They said it was an accident, the vendor ran in shame
My notepad soaked in yogourt blood — no one knew my name

Now the magazine prints tributes still
Editor slain on dairy hill
Each issue sealed with Baltic foam
The cow-faced god has called me home

A sailor lost, a journalist found
Milk turns red where I went down

Thy grave is in Odesa, where two lives interlace
Where feta ghosts still haunt the docks with cream upon their face
I sleep beneath the Black Sea’s grin, embalmed in salted brine
And strangers drink to something soft they cannot quite define

No mast, no milk, no mortal plan
No headline for the sunken man
They buried me in borrowed snow
And marked it, Mild, but rich in woe

The churn goes on — both sea and press
Both bind the soul in weird distress

Thy grave is in Odesa, thy past life’s final loaf
Thy name was smudged by brined regret, thy legend lacks all oaths
But butter drips in silence still, where once you took your breath
A sailor and a critic now both moored in dairy death

Thy Grave is in Odesa

Pissed on a hydrant at quarter to three
Streetlight flickered in complicity
My jeans were cuffed, my shame was high
A cop walked past—he just sighed

Garbage day on Seventh and Vine
I baptized a can like it was mine
My breath was steam, my thoughts were rank
The raccoons watched me from the bank

And every drop is a confession
Another leak, another question

I piss where I don’t belong
Every stream’s another song
From escalator steps to deli trays
I drain my guilt in yellow haze

Mall escalator, mid-afternoon
I marked my descent to the food court tune
Kids pointed up, I stared ahead
I felt more empty than I’d said

Deli meat behind the glass
I pissed while asking for a weekly pass
The turkey rolled, the clerk looked pale
I left behind a mustard trail

My bladder’s full of uncried tears
My stream cuts through suburban fears

I piss where the silence breaks
Between the coughs and frozen cakes
From checkout lanes to open graves
This is the only thing that stays

Old lady in the grocery line
She met my eyes like “this is fine”
I said I’m sorry, but not out loud
The tile beneath me wore a shroud

Some men leave legacies in ink
I just stain the world with stink

I piss where no one prays
In parking lots on Christmas Day
From flower beds to civic halls
My stream outlasts your urban sprawl

No one taught me where to go
Just cracked sidewalks and melting snow
If shame’s a crime, then call it art
I piss like I'm falling apart

No map, no aim, no guiding star
Just puddles where my memories are

I piss where the quiet screams
In Sunday pews and children’s dreams
From bathroom stalls to lakefront views
This is the only thing I choose

I Piss Everywhere

United States Of Rock N Roll

Rolling In The Deep

Rev. Cletus "Slap Chop" Sikorsky
Olena "Nekrodefibrillator" Kalland, MSc
Marko "Masonutrificator" Salo, Esq.

I Piss Everywhere

Backdoor Fistfight

Related tracks