Escape Artist - The Zolas
My alter-ego hes an escape artist
Hes only truly happy when hes under arrest
Oh how he handsome scheduled to hang to death
Hes only truly happy at the precipice
Hes like a mirror he sticks into our ears
A stethoscope to the chest of the vacant years
I can't escape the chair I'm etherized with fear
That my only talent is in hanging here
But then its
Hey boy I've got your man hes right here
Putty in my hands
Ice cream and sweets
Coming in the sheets
He got no excuse to leave
And in the real world an intertidal cave
I ride a desk chair waiting for a tidal wave
I feel like dancing but that is miles away
I'm feeling hard and hollow like paper mache
My alter ego hes in a jailers cage
He sits and waits for the devil to abet his escape
I'm sorry pastor I can't be pasteurized
All of the bibles in the world for a metal file
At every clock strike he hears the jailers keys
And the doubt starts to sprout til hes on his knees
And he remembers like its his mothers call
To feel his hand find a grip at the top of the wall
And
I want to feel it I want to feel the fire
Of the leftover sun on the roofing tiles
I want to feel it I want to feel the fire
Of the leftover sun on the roofing tiles
But then its
Hey boy I've got your man hes right here
Putty in my hands
Ice cream and sweets
Coming in the sheets
He got no excuse to leave
Hey boy I've got your man hes right here
Putty in my hands
Ice cream and sweets
Coming in the sheets
He got no excuse to leave
