1. |
part one
03:47
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guns and songs and broken bones
symphonic symptoms
syntax error
can't breathe right here
lust and blood and saxophones
now someone's dead
you were our friend
ad hominem
but in the patchwork palletes of her eyes
there is so much comfort
there is hope for life
gotta get a grip
if i slip then all gets split
self preservation vs. empathy
bioluminescent grey
we're still predators and prey
co dependent on our pressure points and polarity
wake, dreaded wake
oh please, just five more minutes
in its wake, the aftermath
the wake: the last time you'll ever see their face
strawberries, bombs, and ladybugs
heat lightning heartbeat
your wrinkled hair
sweet as sunflower
through nebulae it permeates and percolates
our melody
like gravity
on every page, in every pitch,
we forge the script and score
forever and whatevermore
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2. |
part two
03:37
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sound
light
waves of the same type
you
and I
shades of a simpler time
death
life
we pivot on a scribbled line
wrong
right
who am I to even say?
as the floodgates rose
where is all the water we were promised now?
in my hand a single wilted rose
once you pick a flower, it'll never grow
we hum in perfect harm and ease
vowels in consonant syncrasy
could a hero be someone like me?
maybe i grew up watching too much TV
as the curtains close
somehow the air comes clearer now
my final pragmatic prose
its a bit dramatic i suppose
but despite all thats obsolete
nothing is truly absolute
surrender but never defeat
i offer you this sole solute:
all the locusts sing in broken clouds of polyrhythm
dragonflies swim in air and dance their pain away
sometimes it's naive to say that all can be forgiven
so smear the lamb's blood on your door
don't mind the passing plague
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3. |
bojangles
03:30
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I bleed in technicolor
Against a monochrome sky
Where the crows line up
Like an abacus
I shimmy my feet across the cracks
Of my own lackluster infrastructure
And snap my fingers to
The harsh noise and stoning silence
Relenquish all control
Of your synapse to the rectangles
And tap dance for your life
Like Bill Bojangles
Up and down the stairs
Like one of Escher's illusions
Slip back into your similies
Like-
I got my gang of goons
Weve got acryllic smiles
I got ideas that grow like chia pets
Ive got split ends and ive got scale rot
Now ive got a song about the things ive got
Ive got to have more up my sleeve than this
But i forgot
Consumer
Counterculture
Consumer counterculture
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4. |
motion blur
04:49
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|
I only know I'm moving when whats around me changes
Even then its hard to really be so sure
All the truths you hold on to
Falsehoods to somebody else
The colours most alluring
Mere tricks of the eye
Im touching down more tangible now
I miss this form and separation
Is this focus, how long will it last?
I am consumed by my operations
Stay woke, stay home
Do what you please as you are told
You wanna find something free?
Roadside lobotomies
The future feels ominous
Youre still afraid of communists
Anyone can write an omnibus on their opinion
Anonymous antonyms
The internet writes our hymns
Youre givin me an aneurysm
You care so much about nihilism
Fuck the hippy mafia
Your deus ex machina
Aint in your pulp leaders
So kill the cult fiction
#wageslaves
Trap house no-wave
Cash addict primates
Missing out on more mistakes
She claims that she knows none
About the Higgs Boson
And throws around the word "quantum"
Like its her pronoun
Reassess your rhetoric
Update your hieroglyphics
Forget about the deficit
Its the dogma of the derelict
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5. |
rocket hideout
03:13
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Despite the high stakes
Ill come in first place
And clear your coin case
In the blink of an eye
Behind the poster underground
I guess its goin down
Came here for my porygon
But now i know whats goin on
All these machines have different odds
But i think that we can rock it
Go run and tell your boss
That im that twerp and he should watch it
Wearin the right scope
I think im seein ghosts
Thought your maze would make me dizzy
Now youre gonna get exposed
Dont care about your snakes and bats
And all that poison gas
Not going missingno you're a hack
Why don't you go blast off
Let's move
If not now, then in about an hour
I need a change of pace
Or a hidden power
This groove
Oh it makes me feel so sour
Smell ya later, loser
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ultra violets Baltimore, Maryland
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