Aesop Rock - Maintenance [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1:]
Well, any asshole with a book of matches can light a fire fresh;
Make that sucker burn for days, I'll be impressed
Surfing to bash the coach of bigot procreation baked in fanciful
Then scurry up the grass to roll his marbles off the anthill
I know girth and good nature but recognize absentee ballots
And sappy ballads couldn't fill the void (No they can't)
It's James and the Giant Tugboat Complex and he's annoyed
(No one's asking you to build an ark brother)
Yeah, it's fashion
I'll find my own bullies to shake a finger at
Then realign mine eyes in divine justice
Plus this uncontrollable laugh
When those Amber Waves of Grain finally crash
Brimstone, cloned with legs and dim poems, 10 little Zen crafts
Things cooperate like paper doll participant litigants
Picket well around a burner style clinic
Acid for the basics, Ph-imbalance to burn the malice martyrs faceless
Then fabricate day trips
I wanna be the halo that jumps off the brain
Of the genius who decided some pictures deserve frames
(God and I are on first name basis)
Yeah I call him "God", he calls me "Jesus"
When I lost my religion, he fell to pieces
Blame. Dragon. Up hell's creek interrupting a devil pageant
Starfighter settle into madness
I keep my ghoul spirit concealed
Until The Warriors return to the Coney Isle Wonder Wheel

[Hook:]
My mama told me there'd be days like this, days like this, days like this
Days like this... (Yes she did)

[Verse 2:]
(Okay) Tell me who you chill with, and I'll tell you who you are
I walk a mile with a leash attached to your freak seminar
It's a modern sensation on the boulevards of maintenance
To sweep your broken hopes under the rug then hug the playpen
It's revolution pushing through the loose pins
Of the straight-jacketed maverick classed in a bunk category
They had him parallel with a tattered glory division
Aka them who drink dreams out a thermos with a whiskey after-burn
It's like, 9 o'clock wake (I'm up), spit obscenities
My girl ties on my cape, smoke a bone, then work my deviltry
The clear day's laced with a classic mother nature thunder chaser set
That got my paper crane's wings wet (oh no)
Voyeurist amendments lacked expansive coverage in the syllabus
I dance for chuckles while you man the keyhole grilling post (that's fine)
I done my chores according to God's schedule
With coffee holding the wheel and nicotine working the pedals
Metal-edged cadence that tends to repel the bevel
Kettle screeching out the operetta (operetta)
I live to autograph the iron curtain with dove's backfeather pens spurting magma
Curséd television earns the burdens of my Cleopatra
Minor, (M-M-Major). Disperse slap on the wrist
For the tenants lacking arms to harbor the rarity of thick friendship
Sunk with a "yes sir" chained to fatigued ankle leagues beneath the angle I'mma call home 'til the Rock meets the angels