Apparently, if you are to actually whistle
It is somehow proven to make the work
Either the workload less
Or the stress that comes on from the workload less
It somehow lessons the intensity of the entire event
Now, I have like a nervous tic where I whistle
And make a bird noise like (whistling)
I feel like that's the opposite
Built this city outta warm clay bricks
Stood outside the walls with harps and sharp sticks
Another stray kitten's elated to play chicken
Cuz everyday it rain the same array of clay pigeons
They were tired, the target's been over the same apartments
I mean you could pick 'em off by just recalling where your arms was
Now they wanna pick and choose the armors
Click and use the weapons 'til the city lose its marbles
It was fuses over charcoals in a barrel used for garbage
They would gather all the fighters up and barbecue the harvest
Satan's little starlets in the dark trying to pry you open
And shake a writer out his Times New Roman
I'm in a zone, so frozen
Not a part of the phone home quotient
Instead I dance around fires
Cutters in the sky singing "Just how low is your lowest low tide?"
Low enough to gather up the halibut and scatter up the beach before the water's back to hassle us
Meanwhile the mayor's on some art-crime camel clutch
Glamour submits to the lowest standards yet
Civil war if his vision isn't yours
If his definition differ send a pig to kick his door
"Oink oink" bellow from the bacon with the brawniest frame
That roll on your hood like Tawny Kitaen
And money nobody considers you a threat
More D-students dreaming of pea shooters bet
You ain't project gunplay
Gentle and apprehensive twenty ways to Sunday
And I roam around the motor way with poker faces only seen on older apes who know how many soldiers made it home today
Damn that's freedom with a fee
I wash my face in the sea. See?
How low is your lowest low tide
How low is your lowest low tide
It was lower than the lowest anybody'd ever known
It was low, it was far, it was wide
Now the townsfolk stand
Pullin' clams out the sand
For the feast they would celebrate the fight
He said "The sword's no joke."
And the tide then returned that night