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• Artiste: Rock Dove
• Titre: Crooked Cop
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i am the jack-o-lantern's dancing light burning alone, setting fire to the bite and i have heard them scream i have heard them shout, "everybody out!" everyday behind a smoking gun facing that rich fucker's only son screaming in the night the street lamps are bright like happy, little stage lights in the cold, dark corners of los angeles i'm living off the sweet taste of the president's piss do you think i want to run? you think i wish that i was done? baby i'm just having fun. up above is a cloud of smoke think, dark, and grey that isn't drifting away and everybody knows there will be no fire hose cause this time everything goes we are dying slaves singing love songs for rich white knaves we are the center piece for fucked up families eating on christmas eve before the fathers leave boy you better hold your tongue you do not want your family to know your dumb keep track of all your little precious lies whispered in shopping malls to keep the spirits high and the morning she is coming aroound making loud but beautiful sounds and your hands are bloody, broken, and bruised and yes, she sees you a thousand lies will noy keep my hand from the door so close your eyes cause you dont need em anymore i've met kids like you and i know exactly what you'll do so dont give me that shit cause i've had enough of it i know i'm not a bad kid i know what's coming for me and i know what isn't happening and i know that i've used the time on my hands and the words on my mind for some pretty terrible things let me tell you that what you dont know will help you so keep your eyes on the ground and don't fucking look around because they wont put you in a cemetery they'll throw you in the river plastic bags will carry not a word not a shiver she knows she knows she knows she knows but that won't keep the exhaust pipe from the hose and everybody knows so it goes so it goes so it goes the world is easy to understand from the backseat of a rental sedan riding the comfortable, warm wake of your father's brief but beautiful break the powerful display casts its shadow on the merritt parkway that wet cement is gonna dry up quick and those yellow broken lines, they're gonna make you sick so come with me now, to the hot block we will write our names on the sidewalk look at you, liquidator i'm your hired gun you're my curator your screams are high pitched and beautiful when taken out of context the purple sky outside gives off cold, dim light as it covers the night it reminds you of waking up, half-asleep and lazing in the car with your family passing the oil wells up and down downtown, a ghost town gliding over open ground to climb on a plane and be delivered some place far far away so think about that little kid, bit your lip, and lower eyelids think about that little kid because it's all over now, you can't change what you did we're all just a little empty but still happy each one of us a tiny aftershock a chip off the block, a ticking clock a friendly competition who can get the most fucked up. are our fists as tight as they will ever be? we'll all have to wait and see.