Jim’s gone native, he’s severed all his ties
The things that we fall back on, he will not abide
A hex upon humanity, like palm trees in our fries
Like a dumpster full of legos all covered in flies
 
Out from the cloister, exposing sacred mounds
Finally got the birds out on the hunting ground
If the American won’t shut up, we can cut her vocal chords,
The mind will still be tainted but its for esprit de corps…
…………
Day One: I lost my gun, and I lost my shit.
I'll yell if I want to yell!
Nobody panic! (Nobody panic!) We’re dead if we panic…
 
Day Two: I know it’s fated, it’s genetically inclined,
Rationed all the wine, not an animal in sight,
The tribes migrated to another point in time
 

Like computers do it better and all those car alarms
Gambling in the desert, concentration camps for farms
Bill was ambidextrous until he went and ate his arms
He’s working on a new plan, but surviving on his charms 

…………………….

Day Five: Kyoko and Mizuki have been eaten alive
By some kind of bug with rows of panda eyes
I tried to save them, but they wouldn’t stop screaming…

Day Thirty-four: Hope is just a joke anymore
We might make it out, but whatever for?
Casualties mounting, but who the hell’s counting
 
Same Day: Don’t respond to Christian names.
A grunt or a groan, it all winds up the same,
When nobody knows you it's a different kind of fame ……
…….. 
If you only let it out, once in a great while
It’s only natural for the mind to run wild
When you're twirling through the air with eyes full of rage
The key is in the weather not in this mortal cage
…………………………………

Delphine better stay awake, or I’m gonna skin her hide
The rest will form a caravan and I’ll slowly eat their eyes
We’ll have to cross the desert where the spirit world resides
Wish I’d of brought that jerky and some of those pudding pies
……………………….... 
With these broken clock around our necks we'll be kings
off with our heads cause time has lost it's wings
…..
Nothing ever turns out the way it's supposed to be
just because we're lost don't mean it's not intentionally

instr.
………………………………..

Day Eight: I wouldn't exactly call it a mistake!
We’re all composed of the same things!
I'll find a baboon troupe! Have five wives! Eat banana soup!
 
Day Something: When the camera’s running,
you’re running for your life
Shut your rain trap and I’ll put away the knife!
 
Day, wait!….: The hour’s late—interpretation would be a mistake.
The memory is notoriously flawed.
I am what it is. It is what I am.
 
Like oil to the oceans, antacid to the sky,
The shaman’s all cranked up, with a bible for his bride
We buried Chantel in her gorilla disguise,
She’ll prolly call collect from the afterlife
If it's in the name of research, it's not exactly crime
Later generations can call it what they like
You know Jim will take issue with your occidental views
We'll see if you can justify spreading the news

Jim’s gone native, he’s seen through all our lies
Jim’s gone native he’s severed all his ties