Football Season Is Over Lyrics

By the time you read this I'll finally find my peace
After I finally find my piece that I hide under the sheets
The beast is all on me, the beast and its army, breathing on me
Leaning on me, keeping me feeling like I got a precinct on me
Told me that I wasn't necessary
Preceded to scold me like I was in Secretary

"Leave me alone" I pleaded, I'm on to Tommy and Larry
"I'm feeding my people at home, please do not come near me"
But I know the debtor, company's policy, honestly
Totally got the false sense of camaraderie
See I was adept at keeping my family from the scope of things
When I was scoping things, when I was choking necks
When I was stabbing necks and put them in acid baths and jet
When I would rope them even in open views of bassinets
Stole rings when I passed checks
I opened things in vaults you couldn't imagine yet
Top level employee, live in the foyer
Because I'm always called in for not doing it your way

Always meeting Philip the divorcee in the hallway
Drinking up the coffee, yelled at for horseplay
I'd always get the job done, with the cops - none
But with the fucking cop's gun if I have to, with the fucking cap gun
Vince Vaughn in the backroom, but you'd actually catch one
When I'd pull the magnum from its back-strap, remember that one?
Assassin number 1 when the factory started
We called it the factory manufacturing action artists
Caught me when I was heartless for humanity
Had started replacing missiles in the parked car batteries
Initially I was pleasing them in car parks
And using the spare car parts to carve darts to use randomly
On the common man, like the dude standing on the corner
A bomb with his hand in his goose with his family
Hero became a villain, filling the blanks, I'm feeling
I'm Hilary Banks on the evening of Trevor's death

Little acclaim given, shitty disdain spilled in
The killings I rank better believe was nowhere left
Said I was reckless, this was offensive
I did my best for them, more than a check list
The work got done, calendar filled with x's
Left New York, worked at the headquarters in Texas
Got a husband, home, babies, I'm making breakfast
Sending them to school with boxes of raisins and shit to profess
This with labors of love and my babies hug me every morning
Bursting in my room with little construction paper drawings
Left the house - to the building
Every day the double life brought fulfillment

Elevated to the basement where I checked in
To the locker room to get fitted with weapons
Every business trip I took relentless
Every school play I had perfect attendance
Had a balance as much as my Hannibal character let me

Dexter would have envied the temper I kept in me
They crept at night, they checked the lights
They broke the lock, they climbed the stairs, they left me just to fight
They took the only thing I ever cared in life
So now with nothing left, I want my chest alight
Goodbye

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Genius Annotation

Hunter’s S. Thompson’s suicide note was released under the title of “Football Season Is Over”:

No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your (old) age. Relax — This won’t hurt

Released via Bandcamp

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