Avant-Garde Lyrics

In the middle of the road I meet my intentions

I couldn't pin 'em, so I go back to my regressions

Man, I hate how I see you as a misdirection

With all this fate running cold, it gets quite contentious

And that just begs the question:

If it's a bitch but it's home, if it gives what I won't

Will I reap what I sow when I speak to the ghosts?

Not committed to the bones

I'm in it 'till we fold

Thought you'd wanna know

I feel at odds with the mob I'm so avant-garde

A lot of talk for a God built from warm regards

What's it like to catch a break?

Cashin checks out the neck for a taste of Le Bain

How much can I sustain?

Placing bets in the red on the same thing

Fuck the savings, they won't save me

Not in it just to make means

Lose the maybes

Committing every minute to the base fee

I feel at odds with the mob I'm so avant-garde

A lot of talk for a God built from warm regards

I feel at odds with the mob I'm so avant-garde

A lot of talk for a God built from warm regards

You got the right stuff, applied wrong

Working up the short game for a long haul

Burning through the late nights, the right call

Servin it for no pay, you'll take all

Up late off the probate

Go and hit the ghost train

This shit is no-bake

Easy on the dough trade

A fast rise, like propane

I'll never settle for half-wills or pro-rates

I feel at odds with the mob I'm so avant-garde

A lot of talk for a God built from warm regards

I feel at odds with the mob I'm so avant-garde

A lot of talk for a God built from warm regards