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• Artiste: Aesop Rock
• Titre: Saturn Missiles
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Step in the lawn, I keep the foot, peep In the pot go 6 degrees of cooked geese Boiling, blitz the beach of mushed peas Over 10 meat hooks with a blister each I’m all pincer, fever-y hoodie on, hoodie off Sweat through his E.T. sheets to the worry dolls Never met a quite storm That didn’t grow into a choir of colliding horns That go click click clack, in territorial syntax Sitting on the porch with his lids pinned back Pinball wiz in a thimble of sins I’m a symbol of whimsy abridged, kiss me I’m dead Nursing a mystery Dayquil Led Zep staring daggers down page mill How prey tell do he sit pretty When the ol’ 1 2 unglue in a tizzy Please hold for the don’t play dull boy Click, I am not a page or a pull toy Came in the door and the floor is lava Killjoy if your core more Normal Rockwell Born home sick for an invisible address Bat shit, bumble and bat around catnip One black heart katamari massive Packed in a fat category 5 rat nest Nose on his sleeve, holes in his inner peace Robot phone like a tentacle of flippancy I hate you, hate you more No I hate you infinity, and Pangaea break into smithereens Interlude presto change-o If it move too quick, oh whey oh Right brain go white train Ramo Moustache any old Monet, “no!” Merrily merrily merrily merrily In a cobweb tomb on a hotbed of heresy Frog men schooled by the god Ed Emberly Pull dog sleds and exhume Dead Kennedys Bent, moth into kerosene awful A caution to straw men lost on vaudeville A-morally mixing business with 144 dixie whistlers Lawn chair, strong man twisted whiskers Nascar bic in his missing fingers Outcast from a system of kiss-the-ring-ers Are you privy to the misadventures It’s electric Meeting in the middle of the street With a lethally modified piccolo pete There is admittedly an incredible mystique To meddling in the reason a city won’t sleep 48 strings of 12, that ring ring ring Whiz bang, jingle bells And melt bootleg G.I. Joes to black taffy Classic, fire in the hole backdrafting Fold wild life out of wolf pack wrapping Full moon, bad knee, wool hat, caffeine TNT plunger in all caps, ACME Blast off half of the whole damn map screen No sling no spear I’m a patchwork of 86’d springs and gears Who been stung by an unlinked pinky swear During his what-in-the-fuck-was-I-thinking years Hm, maybe an awkward phase Like his acne and sophomore fade Played, calling all out-of-work action figures It was death by saturn missiles