Lyrics of 'Hey, Jim' by Turner Cody

Hey, Jim is the G gonna mean something awful?
On the track they are begining to be moving always blindly at me,
But I am swerving, I am choking and am only so green.

And he's in a way that is a serious way,
And no matter what we gather on the green of the grave,
There will be something always that we wanted or we needed to say.

And inside her house of Mercury, she does and rubs, addreses me,
In blessings, second guessing me before I awake,
For holding onto habbits that are difficult and painful to break.

But her plaster mask is flapping in a serious wind,
And she holds on for reasons that are precious within,
And living in the minutes she relinquishes, begets and begins.

And without a propper business suit you're on your own kid,
'Cause no one's gonna bother over things that you did,
No matter how intelligent or ellegant or right you might be.

Do you believe in horror, is your night light still lit?
Have you seen or have you dreamed of how the other ones lived?
Hey, Jim is the G gonna mean something awful to me?

Hey, Jim is the G gonna mean something awful?
On the tracks they are begining to be moving always blindly at me,
But I am swerving, I am choking and am only so green.

Hey, Jim is the G gonna mean something awful?
On the tracks they are begining to be moving always blindly at me,
But I am swerving, I am choking and am only so green.

Now look at the builder and look at the teller,
Cowering in numbers under towering walls,
They're desperate not to breath in but believe in any reason at all.

And she's never been to Brooklyn but she's read about it,
She suffers the delusions of the educated,
There's not a spot of her logic that she doesn't betray.

The women are the clue to what is actually happening,
The wishers of confusion are happily laughing,
In the aftermath the cackling irrational is having its way.

And this will be the year of the challenges met,
If that was the year when the plaster was set,
Denying all excuses and untying all the nooses in me.

It is all a question of the side-glance stare,
Now I am the survivor of the wildest nightmare,
Waiting through the grinding and the grating of the breaks of the G.

Hey, Jim is the G gonna mean something awful?
On the tracks they are beginning to be moving always blindly at me,
But I am swerving, I am choking and am only so green...