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Chorus

Evens and odds, evens and odds, we all have our evens and odds, there's heathens and praising gods, there's Stevens and Todds that fight uneven, die and rot, with these evens and odds, we're unconnected dots, waiting for that fucking line to be crossed.



TK

The difference is the differences in this relationship of stealing shit, evens had switched around backwards, reverse, whose verse, my verse? Controversy's bursting, not nursin but cursing the first thing to the worst thing; it hurts me and others around me, my head's pounding, what's that sounding I hear? It's fear. It's clear I'm weary, it's query, oh dear me, this jeering the jury, hear me, do you see me? Okay! These E.A.O's are like T.K.O's, nice buddies turn to evil assholes, darkened sould into a black hole. I'm not religious but for the love of what you believe in, these odds and evens need to be straightened, straighten up themeselves, well?




Chorus

Evens and odds, evens and odds, we all have our evens and odds, there's heathens and praising gods, there's Stevens and Todds that fight uneven, die and rot, with these evens and odds, we're unconnected dots, waiting for that fucking line to be crossed.



TK

Odds are odd, mismatched, 1, 3, 5, nein, no, not to undermine, do you mind? They make some cry, why, why do they cry? They say "Hi" to hide their crimes, what I'm saying is that being uneven is leaving an opportunity to absurdity flourishing harshly, god! These odds are an evil plot to take the nice guys into slobs, what? Lob them off, hop off, stop them from hopping around, falling down and being mopped up. These odds are obnoxious, chop this, crop it, they robbed it, they're gremlins, elves of hell, cursed hobbits causing promblems for hundreds, so odds are a lot of probs packed in just one. E.A.O's, O.A.E's, OCD, clean it up to the evens, regrowing green, plant the succeeding plant tree, to be the All Great Seeing being, not believing what he's seeing so he's pleading-




Chorus

Evens and odds, evens and odds, we all have our evens and odds, there's heathens and praising gods, there's Stevens and Todds that fight uneven, die and rot, with these evens and odds, we're unconnected dots, waiting for that FUCKING line to be crossed.

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