Written by: Ian Bavitz, Thomas James Fec
Duration:
Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Dog Years’ by Aesop Rock. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of Aesop Rock or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Under the boardwalk
Half eighth and a half-ate corn dog
Face halfway to P-40 Warhawk
Graze in the gore with the whores and the warthogs
Aged in a basement
Aes count cake in dog years
I’m rich when I’m broke, it’s amazing
I’m 3-eyed fish in the moat, I’m a joke
I’m a Kilroy pissed in the snow
Most of the extolled folk in his past
Grew up an opposer and sociopath
Old portfolios openly dissed
OG morals Tokyo Drift
I’s low key miffed
You was trying to get your own pants unpissed
Yelling, “F*ck the rich”
Now he down low, count dough in a bubble
Spit-shined shoes, throw coats on puddles
In the face of fame, I never cuddle with the cancer
I’m patient, age-old bugs in the amber
Bed-head Lazarus, climb out a time warp
No one to impress, what would I comply for, hmm
I never ate dinners with pop stars
You wouldn’t paint litter on a Bob Ross
New York slobs hop scotch on rock salt
Less 2Pac, more pock marks, mm
We don’t know
Have another though we don’t care
You’re so cheap
We don’t know, we don’t know, we don’t know
We don’t want
Have another though we don’t need
Yours to keep
We don’t know, we don’t know, we don’t know
Primordial metazoan friends
Break bread with a plan to coalesce
Turns out couldn’t even coexist
It was each go Ronin or open a wrist all gross
Unsung sons and daughters
Mall-rats, brawlers, punks and paupers
In a scramble to see who hugs the corners
Who cuts the cord? Who drugs the gorgeous?
Who runs on fours through dungeon crawlers?
On a speed date with a red cup full of quarters
A never buzz with the hornets
Stay home, tongue on a 9-volt, punk’s not a corpse yet
Get served, thank the pig
No gold, no myrrh, no frankincense
A little man-on-wire, no safety net
It’s a way of life, it’s a face of death
I cold came in the door sure as Rae is chef
Open, robots owning emotion
New to a cruelty, humor my love
Each day a little less stupid as f*ck, hmm
Burnouts at the prom
Turn down for your mom
Truck-stop cutlery, crown to cancel
Broadcast from the bouncy castle, let’s go
We don’t know
Have another though we don’t care
You’re so cheap
We don’t know, we don’t know, we don’t know
We don’t want
Have another though we don’t need
Yours to keep
We don’t know, we don’t know, we don’t know