Fugitive Air

I do wrong, strictly speaking, just for myself, because it Makes me feel like a real man to hold hegemony over my business, and I I refuse to be abused by the milieu of wistful decay Besides I'm used to all of my scruples deserting me Like they've done today The lady from the block hunched over on the stoop With her withered old titty out, Sayin' I've been rolled so many times, it's just Feeding the pigeons Now her grandson swings a little rabbit by the leg While his mother's playing two wooden flutes I want to repo some fugitive air To escape this street's vagary aesthetic Has anybody here seen my old friend blob? Oh, has anybody seen where he's gone? What he thinks I owe him is his former life But how can I unmake someone else's mistakes? I guess I was his anti-hero The bitter word on his lips I hope I never feel a terror like When you've discovered your autonomy had flipped I feel like I possess only the bad aspects Of invisibility, but none of the good ones Are we walking mausoleums of scented rotting flesh? Mother always liked you best Liked your teeth upon her breast Paint him with the oils from the eyes of street cats Through some shitty witchcraft And apply it to their brows and genitalia I had no idea how deeply I wounded you But I don't need no forgiveness And no level of contrition will ever do Notes: The "" in the intro and fourth verse is played barred at the 3rd, 5th, and 7th frets, but it sounds great if you drop down to the open E shape for the "E G" that follows. I know the sounds weird, but I was able to isolate the acoustic guitar track, and that's what he's playing. Focus on the descending root notes on the A string like he does.