Dropping Direct

This ain't no weaponry Just a couple of darts thrown in the air Forgive me for the parody And the slight cynicism A tough smell of rogue pilot-seats Has definitely sneaked its way Into our taste for novelty From my kitchen to you Here's my groove, no filter but Mom's stockings before the mic Killing "pops" in a pale beige hue You say it all just sounds the same But still passive on this claim I bring you rock and dance With a professional suicide vocal grain What's the story? Majors wait For the next big drop A pack of wolves from the underground Is about to step upon Your territory Cutting your share in two While adding something new Another single out You don't really hear Thanks for the 360 deal, but I'll handle my shit my way Move the down towards the upbeat Subjectively to my viewpoint Here is a judgmental case laid To the post-punk-alternative-heavy-pop community Whatever the f*ck I claim to be Art theorists and history Will call the shots on this Eventually Has this industry's Half-baked dream-scheme taken Its toll on my sanity Am I really here Watch me miss this boat, this song is dropping where and how I want I am drawing this one line But really, it's a road Cutting one share in two Or adding something new Another single out I don't really hear I won't relate, well f*ck this shit I am dropping my shit on you