LYRICS Yes, Jon? Ladies and gentlemen, Jonathon Maisto! Big round of applause for this guy for putting up with my shit for so many years (Aww!) (Nice shirt, Jon!) (Thanks!) (You're welcome!) Working a little bit better now buddy? Well, he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor Anaphylaxis with a pack of bottle rockets Oh, the way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges With a bag of tangerines in his back pockets And the method with which he recycled his vitamins Had started to leave scars in the corners of his eyеs And looked through the white-out rеvelation Chain he saw no stars even underneath the wide Ohio skies Shields himself from reason in a Teflon alabaster jacket Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers Screams his thoughts to hear them With selfist and sarcastic racket rabble rousing babble round the table people to the power For what? For what? For what it’s worth If it was gonna kill you, boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it’s worth There’s no more looking back, it’s looking up or looking down [Abusing the piano] Well, he was uh- well he was uh- he was uh- He- he was- he wa- he was carrying this briefcase filled with teeth that he had ordered online from China And he had slung over his shoulder The skin of a cat that he grew up with And then had…uh…stuffed to preserve its memory in physical form But decided that with the skeleton inside the cat and all the stuff- stuffing it- it was too heavy so he removed the skin from the wire frame of the taxidermy thing and he- he- he slung around his neck like a scarf and um- he- was- WWWWWWWWWearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose Around his Lotus jugular when they came Well they found him with a map to every victim of his love And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flat line cry A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, “For Auld Lang Syne Happy birthday to the succulents, I’ll die your hydroponics” His rib cage was a hornet’s nest, palpitations set the beat His vagus nerve a turk’s head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend He wondered if the good lord Jesus charged a cancellation fee Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends For what? For what? For what it’s worth If it was gonna kill you, boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it’s worth There’s no more looking back, it’s looking up or looking down [Abusing the piano a little more] You settle into a new mind In a Philippine tub ring paradise of a queen-size suite of a window micro telecon a lodge red roof in nights in super eight whatever else outside Richmond Virginia I curled up an old showtime softcore porno and flipped through my phone for a few hours Picked up a bag of Swedish Fish and a fistful of chocolate covered cherries and a pack of Marlboro next for three dollars and ninety cents the bodega by the waffle house I spun my eyes over the beautiful floral arrangements blooming and tessellating in the stucco on the walls anything I figured to keep my mind off those goosebumps that were rising and squeaking and cracking and quacking and threatening anaphylaxis and asphyxiation with every sharp inhale that I took with the thread of Stevens-Johnson Syndrome behind my flesh and I watched as my skin crawled upwards to form a flesh noose to hang me from the rafters of that place I had found myself in and I watched as my epidermis took on the shape of whatever I feared the most in that moment and I sat there down in that fly trap ashtray contemplating my next move and weighing out the pros and cons of every last rotten pulse! It was either Wilmington North Carolina or the nearest hospital! For what? For what? For what it’s worth If it was gonna kill you, boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it’s worth There’s no more looking back No, no there’s no more looking back No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no Ah! [GASP] Ah! [GASP] For what? For what? For what it’s worth If it was gonna kill you, boy, it would have by now For what? For what? For what it’s worth There’s no more looking back No, no there’s no more looking back No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no It's looking up or looking down!
I understand why he didn’t keep this version in but god does it sound freaking GOOD
LYRICS
Yes, Jon?
Ladies and gentlemen, Jonathon Maisto!
Big round of applause for this guy for putting up with my shit for so many years
(Aww!)
(Nice shirt, Jon!)
(Thanks!)
(You're welcome!)
Working a little bit better now buddy?
Well, he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor
Anaphylaxis with a pack of bottle rockets
Oh, the way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges
With a bag of tangerines in his back pockets
And the method with which he recycled his vitamins
Had started to leave scars in the corners of his eyеs
And looked through the white-out rеvelation
Chain he saw no stars even underneath the wide Ohio skies
Shields himself from reason in a Teflon alabaster jacket
Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers
Screams his thoughts to hear them
With selfist and sarcastic racket rabble rousing babble round the table people to the power
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
If it was gonna kill you, boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
There’s no more looking back, it’s looking up or looking down
[Abusing the piano]
Well, he was uh- well he was uh- he was uh-
He- he was- he wa- he was carrying this briefcase filled with teeth that he had ordered online from China
And he had slung over his shoulder
The skin of a cat that he grew up with
And then had…uh…stuffed to preserve its memory in physical form
But decided that with the skeleton inside the cat and all the stuff- stuffing it- it was too heavy so he removed the skin from the wire frame of the taxidermy thing and he- he- he slung around his neck like a scarf and um- he- was-
WWWWWWWWWearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose
Around his Lotus jugular when they came
Well they found him with a map to every victim of his love
And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face
And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flat line cry
A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic
But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, “For Auld Lang Syne
Happy birthday to the succulents, I’ll die your hydroponics”
His rib cage was a hornet’s nest, palpitations set the beat
His vagus nerve a turk’s head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend
He wondered if the good lord Jesus charged a cancellation fee
Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
If it was gonna kill you, boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
There’s no more looking back, it’s looking up or looking down
[Abusing the piano a little more]
You settle into a new mind
In a Philippine tub ring paradise of a queen-size suite of a window micro telecon a lodge red roof in nights in super eight whatever else outside Richmond Virginia
I curled up an old showtime softcore porno and flipped through my phone for a few hours
Picked up a bag of Swedish Fish and a fistful of chocolate covered cherries and a pack of Marlboro next for three dollars and ninety cents the bodega by the waffle house
I spun my eyes over the beautiful floral arrangements blooming and tessellating in the stucco on the walls anything I figured to keep my mind off those goosebumps that were rising and squeaking and cracking and quacking and threatening anaphylaxis and asphyxiation with every sharp inhale that I took with the thread of Stevens-Johnson Syndrome behind my flesh and I watched as my skin crawled upwards to form a flesh noose to hang me from the rafters of that place I had found myself in and I watched as my epidermis took on the shape of whatever I feared the most in that moment and I sat there down in that fly trap ashtray contemplating my next move and weighing out the pros and cons of every last rotten pulse!
It was either Wilmington North Carolina or the nearest hospital!
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
If it was gonna kill you, boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
There’s no more looking back
No, no there’s no more looking back
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no
Ah! [GASP] Ah! [GASP]
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
If it was gonna kill you, boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
There’s no more looking back
No, no there’s no more looking back
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no
It's looking up or looking down!
Ty!
The TF2 reference in the descriptions got me actin all silly
fffffffffffffINALLY SOMEONE NOTICED
@@thewillwoodarchive YEAHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE THE BLACK BOX ITS MY MAIN FOR SOLDIER
PIANO ABUSE!!!!!! :D
Wait was this recorded for The Real Will Wood? I heard him say in an interview it was a 21 song album but even the Bandcamp had only 19
Red Moon and BlackBoxWarrant were excluded for some reason
@@Strawzaw red moon was added for a short while in like 2019, but then got removed for whatever reason
1:08