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1. |
Mother Funker
02:40
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Like Steve Buscemi you broke the levy, Continuing to astound from the Pitcher's mound, yet you're the only one who could hit a home run, ninth inning and we've only just begun
See the results of the experiment, it gives off such a masochistic scent, tastes like blood, sweat and tears, with a hint of bank account in arrears, social fearrrsss
Vanilla Chinchilla lady killa swallow pilla to revilla tones of truity removing incongruity and further establish a state of balance,
This is your last chance, pay heed to the silent watcher's
tarry not at silver-tongued talkers, laying both spells and curse,
Listen to the Universe
Lost souls, clinging to status quos, why am I so different? Cross grain tattoo, ethers floating, which dimension applies to you?
My nose is clogged, my brain is fogged, my girl is dogged,
What betta chedda to inhale wheneva, this shit is raw!
Sailing seas of pastime activities let's challenge our proclivity
to assail each other's symmetry, and wake in anothers arms,
I come bearing arms to further assault your charms, and strive to imbibe your diatribe, that I may fly as bird to sky and negate serious harm
I'm not you see strictly a soliloquy though I know, I could go another decade or so, to be you see, not another casualty of love and lost limbo's, stick and toss bimbos, timeless it would seem, this is quite the scene, yes the net is cast, though it feels we'll catch the past, let's ride this to the end, it's my turn to see how far you will bend, let's dance for everything sacred, I choose to do it naked, upon my death bury me in baby's breath and know I tried to make it
Lost souls, clinging to status quos, why am I so different? Cross grain tattoo, ethers floating, which dimension applies to you?
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2. |
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Sextraterrestrial combat, currently accepting applications for a womb rat.
You can be my lab rat, fuck that! a pussy cat. Shapeshifting chameleon, sentient from mycelium.
Sextraterrestrial, I render you ineffectual
Rise against it'll be a spectacle
All will be saved 'cept the skeptical
Grab hold I'll save you with my tentacle
Sextraterrestrial combat, the boring beams blazing down
with the sheepling radar beepling, droning in the foreground
The mongrels in the dog pound
Pining for the ultrasound
Queen She-Bee
All that I see
The key of ove-ar-y
Tapping hard drives until motherboard arrives
Malfunction at girl-y guides luncheon
Invitational Constellational vibration to
Hillary seeking an auxillary
Before we burst a capillary
Sand's in the circuits
A shiny coat of lust
No sign of rust
Paradise or bust
Macro procedural orders
Stretching yoga's borders
Bitcoin can't afford her
dashing digital signature
Neo nympho ligature
Swimming 1's and 0's
Our villains and our heroes
Sextraterrestrial, I render you ineffectual
Rise against it'll be a spectacle
All will be saved 'cept the skeptical
Grab hold I'll save you with my tentacle
Sextraterrestrial, I render you ineffectual
Rise against it'll be a spectacle
All will be saved 'cept the skeptical
Grab hold I'll save you with my tentacle
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3. |
Carpenter without Tools
04:33
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Carpenter without Tools
A carpenter without tools is a madman, a madman with tools is an architect
Every day a different place, a different face a different sermon,
Rockin' the hodge podge jumbylah cliches, sometimes we touch on grace
Cathartic emancipation repetitive rhymes repetitive lines,
The clergy raves success in rallying the rest,
Group song sing along, there are no sheep on this farm
Only Ram-ifications, step aside from the pulpit
your minute is up your twenty five cents of soul enriched white bread is no more
I can't get no sleep
Counting too many sheep
And where is Bo-Peep
It would seem by now she's six feet deep
(The sky is falling)
When the autumn breeze brings in the leaves,
The colour of my soul it seems,
In the waking life or walking dreams,
I think I know just what it means to be here,
to be here,
to be here,
to be here,
to be here,
shhhhhhhhhhhh
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Phineas Gauge Thunder Bay, Ontario
........................ A Little something about Phineas
Gauge..............................
Phineas Gauge began: as one man’s creative endeavour, a pseudonym, a gestalt of ideals within a vision, an imagination; like an albino octopus sprouting new arms, still growing ever stronger, more diverse.
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