1. |
Bovine Soul
04:10
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Someone punched a hole in my dream
And now I'm stranded and I'm fiending hard
But if I stay out too long
I'll probably taste dread before the morning dawn
Someone caught word of my scheme
And tried to tail me like I'm stealing cars
And if I wail out, ah god
I'll probably wake the dead and break the headstone
I found the other repairs took far too long
Plus I'm old and not expected to grow
Get caught up in the role I've been offered
And do what I'm told
I see it
It's far beyond the pale that I've known
Quiet please, mark off one bed for me
Lull my bovine soul
And culled in a very tight ward
Just a dollar a pill pop
Knock on my door
Prepping up for the pin drop
Owning what you hold
That's a lot to control
Someone out there's holding my chain
And when I find him then I swear it's on
But if the daylight's too strong
I'll probably shrink back until my shadow's gone
Somewhere there's a ledger of my deeds (or good intentions)
Fit for heaven's nod
So if you'll pardon my gall
I'll proudly graze on until the kingdom call
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2. |
Narcisyphus
05:54
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Chorus:
The aspirant’s in repose
Listing “luxe” beatitudes
Sacrosanct bullet points
The center’s been removed
Impresario’s pretense
Of exaggerated action
Supinely gazing through the murk
Splinters lap in pool’s refraction
Narcisyphus:
Pardon my digression, happens time to time
As you surely notice, I can clean up nice
Got to keep it moving, never satisfied
Present at creation, got that founder's fire
Overnight sensation with the staying power
Humble man of action, book you on my flight
View from thirty thousand keep me grounded right
Way beyond those haters, they get none my mind
All my living spaces got that flow you like
Taste is both eclectic and so harmonized
Modern office spacious and economized
Multilevel vision, quick to optimize
Disrupting stasis, how I'm specialized
Integration guru with the seamless ties
Nosh the ancient grains, treat my temple right
Practice to keep mind and body synchronized
A dap Adonis set to pulverize
Girl you must believe this, i can blow your mind
Second just to Jesus on the quarter mile
All these crying faces best to get behind me
Chorus:
Aggrandizement
At tipping point
Biz-casz godhead
Lumpen lard anoint
Visage pumped full
To retouch ruin
Expansion on the attic
Gentle storage for illusion
Nag, nag … goes
Doubt’s steady Echo
Such a drag, drag … this
Weeping, clouded fresco
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3. |
(You Can't Be) Serious
03:00
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Just a passing thought.
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4. |
Got Dragged 2020
05:06
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Brain fogged, pressurized, sucking the fug
Locked down a month of Sundays, fell asleep on the rug
As the world burns I’ve been chewing the cud
Sacked and gagged, dragging ‘round softening chud
Slack mind chatter, crime seeping indoors
Fuck my chores, Lackey Lung hungry and bored
Pray a’lord, someone come and cut me loose
Throw my whole heap at the next thing that moves
A car! My kingdom for a car
Got my pop’s cash down, no APR
Now I’m on the scene
Hair like Jim Dean in the magazine
I was flying down the highway doing 75
With this F-350 bearing down on my hide
Honky junk blaring through the teeth of his grill
Rear view blinded, got me jerking the wheel
Hot Metal Doberman nipping my heels
Heart skips, damn my girl’s gonna be pissed
Mind now racing down a list of regrets
Amends I let slip, think I’m losing my grip
“My darkest night… on a wet looking road”
Push my inline six ‘til it’s about to blow
Weighed down heavy, five-deep in a coupe
Faces go pale as I fishtail
Now I find my wits steadied, from flee to fight
But this trash heap’s crowding up the space on my right
Pink mass seething like he’s out to kill
Babble slop spewing out the teeth of his grill
“Boogaloo… kung flu… red pill…” Hold up, hey!
Be-bop-a-lula, baby, what he say!?
But in his zeal to goad
He kinda coulda shoulda kept his eye on the road
Dude hit that curb full throttle
Launched four blown tires to the moon and back
Cheers from my home-grown team
To see that MAGAt tumble like a Bobby Lee
This human wreckage
And there ain’t much left that’s fit for salvage
Got ‘em deaf, dumb, and blind to the presage
Bound to be ground up whole in nostalgia’s vestige
This sideshow tableau
Where nothing matters and anything goes
Shoddy pyro keep the grey skies aglow
And I’ll be squatting in this grotto, checking all the memos
Nervously eyeing the fate of these dominos
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5. |
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Words can't describe all the ways that she please
She's all we ever wanted and more than we need
Through our whole lives she's been by our side
Been taken for granted, abused and neglected
Her love is still true but
There's only so much we can play with her trust
Before we get busted
The struggle ain't new
And if we put our heads together we can make it through
But the pick of her brood think they can go it alone
Well ain't that rude
They building Space Babel
Many fine people toiling down in the dirt
Turning up your nose cuz they smell of Earth
You building Space Babel
Babies fed fodder, sipping lead with the water
Stressed before they're teens
Minds locked behind a screen
Staring at Space Babel
Billion dollar budget for R&D
To make champagne rooms work at zero-G
I'm talking Space Babel
Well Bonzo goes to Mars cuz it's hard
And he's charging $5.99m
And the snakes lining up
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6. |
Lunar Caustic
03:38
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Smash-and-grab scuffle at the golden hour,
Donnybrook snubs outlined in incandescent emblem streaking along facade; decoding what’s been there all along: persona non grata.
Shining on, over, and above these streets,
Radiating and lucent with a self-love permitting inclusion before conception, an effecting-of before conception.
Mystic transients convene near coastline slowly being licked away by an insatiable, prodigious drink.
The drink that could quite possibly quench this arid and abandoned immovable, this barren strip of carefully placed fragments of jejune keepsakes that cannot even be reminisced over in a satisfyingly accurate manner. No longer.
This memory of an ordered sequence of events will fail you now.
Virgin-white and unashamedly sexless tourists report from Torpor Valley and gather on caravans, armed with photographic instruments and logs, taking notes home from the jungle, that area where instinct is still the final arbiter of all decisive action. Rounding up and seizing an essence. Forming new chronologies. What the aboriginals cautioned against.
Postcard script reads like metallic taste of blood on teeth.
Blackout gnosis scroll has been ratified. Particulates to be adopted and assimilated on an as-needed basis. Triumph of the bridle. Masses retreat to temp-controlled enclaves, bathed in electric blue light, dead opioidal eyes fixed on digital seeing glass. Closing in on the barely perceptible, involuntary spasm of facial muscles suggests eupeptic compliance. Atomization complete.
[Now blow.]
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7. |
Hang On
06:34
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I'm not sure I understand. Could you make that clearer for me?
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Glacial Burners Baltimore, Maryland
Baltimore people. Issuing digitized xmissions from atop Dundalk's Ivory Tower.
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