1. |
duplicating
04:57
|
|||
flora. I had a new drug.
it was a purple one - all my love
my mind was mud
dried to dust and died.
“I want your damage” – the biggest lie
how will you keep from duplicating?
and look at that
I don’t float
say what you will. say what you won’t.
I’m sinking. I’m back to the base.
I keep on waking up in negative space.
how will you keep from duplicating?
have you reduced yourself to nothing without your physicality?
how will you keep from duplicating?
I’m going to sever the transcendental tether.
it’s going to die – the purple line.
|
||||
2. |
gravitate away
03:30
|
|||
45s and 33s
preying on 16s
lock ‘em up
throw away the very key.
lock ‘em up.
and I’d like to see your death march
for leaving those psychic scars.
lock ‘em up.
throw away the very key.
lock ‘em up.
OR
gravitate away. some things don’t change.
will you….can you…keep your brusises to yourself?
I should load it up and send you straight to hell.
I should load it up.
no windows, locked doors, violence on the bathroom floor.
I should load it up and blow your gourd.
I should load it up and blow your gourd.
OR
gravitate away. Some things don’t change.
|
||||
3. |
whatever it wants
01:57
|
|||
well I don’t know what the mystic said.
the maharaja’s talking head
in my television set’s reflection
of my body bending, breaking, taking,
whatever it wants.
and he’s staring into a void too big to explore anymore.
little dots becoming little dots.
his brain’s bending, breaking, taking
whatever it wants.
well I don’t know what the mystic said.
the maharaja’s talking head
in my television set’s reflection
of my body bending, breaking, taking,
whatever it wants.
|
||||
4. |
death by poligrip
02:23
|
|||
no one knows why he went with her.
she’s wearing furs
and turning up the temperature.
and october is already over.
things should be only growing colder.
well I’m doing smoking those cigarettes
I wanna see some
death By poligrip
|
||||
5. |
crippling guilt
01:11
|
|||
6. |
weird foodists
03:45
|
|||
7. |
don't touch me
01:47
|
|||
take your bags of bones and go home
stoned weirdos get stoned alone
I’m standing in place where your clothes got brown paint on the sleeves
I’m snuffing speed.
don’t touch me. please.
it doesn’t matter that it doesn’t matter
I’ve been better.
because I’m growing bitter
you reap what you sow
and I’m sewing my
death sweater
don’t touch me. please.
|
||||
8. |
my car, your car
04:03
|
|||
9. |
africa
02:41
|
LIBRARY TIME Cleveland, Ohio
weird American chlorine pools bespectacled thru him are we and we is he crawling o’er a hallow all-factory, page crankl’d,
the cookie crambl’d. An e-aura , an energy hue helled down shouts “It’s finally my Miller time.” One long slug of dead air, wearing a yellow rubber glove. Ego-death: one dusk we’ll drudge it up from the depths, the plumb.
Peace n Blessins,
xoxo
Library Time
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