Video by Matthew Daniel Siskin, and everyone in America.
Father John Misty's album Pure Comedy is available now on Deluxe 2xLP / 2xLP / CD / DL / CS in Europe through Bella Union and the rest of the world from Sub Pop.
Buy Now: http://fatherjohnmisty.store
UK / EU: https://bellaunion.greedbag.com
AUS / NZ: https://fatherjohnmisty.sound-merch.com.au
Stream / Download: https://lnk.to/FJMPCAY
Father John Misty On The Web:
http://www.fatherjohnmisty.com
http://www.facebook.com/fatherjohnmisty
LYRICS:
The comedy of man starts like this:
Our brains are way too big for our mother’s hips
So, nature, she devised this alternative:
We emerge half-formed and hope whoever greets us on the other end
Is kind enough
To fill us in
And, babies, that’s pretty much how it’s been ever since
Now the miracle of birth leaves a few issues to address
Like say that half of us are periodically iron deficient
So somebody’s gotta go kill something while I look after the kids
I’d do it myself, but what, are you gonna get this thing his milk?
He says as soon as he gets back from the hunt we can switch
It’s hard not to fall in love with something so helpless
Ladies, I hope we don’t end up regretting this
Comedy
Now that’s what I call pure comedy
Just wait until the part where they start to believe
They’re at the center of everything
And some all powerful being
Endowed this horror show with meaning
Their religions are the best
They worship themselves but they’re totally obsessed
With risen zombies, celestial virgins, magic tricks
In these unbelievable outfits
And they get terribly upset
If you question their sacred texts
Written by woman-hating epileptics
Their languages just tend to confuse them
Their confusion somehow makes them more sure
Now they’re much too bright for the old superstitions
But they’re yet to find a new one they won’t serve
Where did they find these clowns they elected to rule them
They recline in outrage at the
These mammals are hell-bent on fashioning new gods
So they can go on being godless animals
Comedy
Their illusions that are all that they can see
Their horizons that just forever recede
How’s this for irony:
Their idea of being free
Is a prison of beliefs
They’ve every right to never leave
Comedy
It’s like something that a madman would conceive
The only thing that seems to makes them feel alive
Is the struggle to survive
But the only thing that they request
Is something to numb the pain with
Until there’s nothing human left
Just random matter suspended in the dark
Hate to say it, but each other’s all we’ve got
Father John Misty's album Pure Comedy is available now on Deluxe 2xLP / 2xLP / CD / DL / CS in Europe through Bella Union and the rest of the world from Sub Pop.
Buy Now: http://fatherjohnmisty.store
UK / EU: https://bellaunion.greedbag.com
AUS / NZ: https://fatherjohnmisty.sound-merch.com.au
Stream / Download: https://lnk.to/FJMPCAY
Father John Misty On The Web:
http://www.fatherjohnmisty.com
http://www.facebook.com/fatherjohnmisty
LYRICS:
The comedy of man starts like this:
Our brains are way too big for our mother’s hips
So, nature, she devised this alternative:
We emerge half-formed and hope whoever greets us on the other end
Is kind enough
To fill us in
And, babies, that’s pretty much how it’s been ever since
Now the miracle of birth leaves a few issues to address
Like say that half of us are periodically iron deficient
So somebody’s gotta go kill something while I look after the kids
I’d do it myself, but what, are you gonna get this thing his milk?
He says as soon as he gets back from the hunt we can switch
It’s hard not to fall in love with something so helpless
Ladies, I hope we don’t end up regretting this
Comedy
Now that’s what I call pure comedy
Just wait until the part where they start to believe
They’re at the center of everything
And some all powerful being
Endowed this horror show with meaning
Their religions are the best
They worship themselves but they’re totally obsessed
With risen zombies, celestial virgins, magic tricks
In these unbelievable outfits
And they get terribly upset
If you question their sacred texts
Written by woman-hating epileptics
Their languages just tend to confuse them
Their confusion somehow makes them more sure
Now they’re much too bright for the old superstitions
But they’re yet to find a new one they won’t serve
Where did they find these clowns they elected to rule them
They recline in outrage at the
These mammals are hell-bent on fashioning new gods
So they can go on being godless animals
Comedy
Their illusions that are all that they can see
Their horizons that just forever recede
How’s this for irony:
Their idea of being free
Is a prison of beliefs
They’ve every right to never leave
Comedy
It’s like something that a madman would conceive
The only thing that seems to makes them feel alive
Is the struggle to survive
But the only thing that they request
Is something to numb the pain with
Until there’s nothing human left
Just random matter suspended in the dark
Hate to say it, but each other’s all we’ve got
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