Simultaneous Lyrics - Money Shot - Puscifer

So, the first time I saw him was at the annual city festival 

at the end of the plaza on, uh, Punker Hill; 

also known as the Island of Misfits. 

Um, it's like a mound of black leather 

and Army surplus jackets and boots, 

and spiky egg-white hairdos and Mohawks, 

and second-generation Exploited and Minor Threat and Sex Pistols patches and stuff. 

Basically a haven for the misunderstood punk-y, rock-y, 

goth-y, woe-is-me types. 

And uh, and there he was, like, right in the middle of it all. 

Um, oversize foam yellow cowboy hat, and pink plastic 

Toys 'R Us pistols, and a holster. 

Off-white dashiki, uh, shirt and tattered bell bottom jeans. 

Leathered feet. Raleigh cigarette finger stains. 

And he was an island within an island and I just 

kind of had to know more. 

So, I, uh, I sat with him for hours to try and get a bearing 

on his beautiful insanity. 

Every third inquiry was met with, you know, 

an eloquent but unusual response, and, you know, 

the subsequent exchange, 

it kind of warranted continuing the conversation cause 

he was, he was interesting. 

Of course the other two-thirds of my efforts were 

dismissed while he took in the constant flow of the festival 

crowd all around us: 

the raging river of multi-cultural music, art, food, families. 

All of this with his Walkman at full volume. I think it was 

Foreigner playing through the headphones. 

And I asked "Maybe, you know, maybe you can turn that 

down so we can talk?" and he replied, 

"Can you hear me?" and I said "Yes", and he said 

"Well, then it's fine." 

He never really pretended-not once-to be able to organize 

all this chaos that was going on around us. He just 

unapologetically chose which pieces to focus on. 

Well, you know, after a few hours we seemed to have kind 

of found our stride, found our rhythm. 

Kinda settled into it and we're having these intermittent 

conversations, flipping back and forth between the chaos 

and the focus. 

And then just kinda out of nowhere, he seemed to become 

a little unsettled and disturbed, and I asked him what was 

wrong, 

and he just blurted out "Peanut, Paris and syrup" and then 

he looked at me like I would know what that means. 

And then he said, "you have any... do you have any 

batteries?" So basically his Walkman was running out of 

power and he just needed batteries. 

So before I could even turn and ask one of our fellow 

punkers for some double-A's, he grabbed my face with 

both hands, and then for the first time in the entire 

conversation he gave me his complete focus and attention 

-completely present-and calmly said, 

"We will never know world peace until three people can 

simultaneously look each other straight in the eye." 

Should the oceans rise 

Should the sky come falling down 

Should the islands tremble beneath us 

See our better nature blossom 

Should the sun rain fire 

Should Hell on Earth freeze over 

And our enemies wait hungry 

See our better nature feed them 

Should the sun rain fire 

Should Hell on Earth freeze over 

When our enemies wait hungry 

See our better nature feed and clone them 

Find a way through, around or over (x7)