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• Artiste: Aesop Rock
• Titre: The Four Winds
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I never don't float with the four winds Sweat cold, piss warm, make horror films No doors on the force field Radio a head I log any palpitation of the web With a raven or angel of death Entertainment or threat By the end you're a savory crepe Models that mar every orbit and corner, it's war There's more exhibition than voyeur or voyee Cold dawn mist incarnate Every day I wake up in a different carcass If I climb out quiet I'm made before tea I see no need to initial this tree I seem to have run out of skin on my teeth I look like, I feel like a fish in a beak I look like a dick in my picture I.D But also the pic isn't me, huh Sideways rain that chew the zoot up OK losing a shoe in the mud OK losing a shoe in the mud OK losing a shoe in the mud Sideways rain that chew the roof through Home by 12:00 in two shoes Home by 12:00 in two shoes Home by 12:00 in two shoes If you cultivate the grid that make ya fold the face The brick that make a bolt escape the fist Some days on the road to make he miss And make the hold on the probe equate to piss Blood rain, I'm the face of the forecast Talk through space like a blade through stored fat Graze over the gate in the gourd fest Ain't really played to the neighborly format Great, faded adventuring out of his norm is a lesson in mapping the doors Anything more in the lap of the gods Anything less an imbalance ignored Seems like even the rag-tag grab bag Raise eyebrows when your rat pack quack quack Spit fires that kiss the pitch dark He rows a big oar He spins a grim yarn Sideways rain that chew the zoot up OK losing a shoe in the mud OK losing a shoe in the mud OK losing a shoe in the mud Sideways rain that chew the roof through Home by 12:00 in two shoes Home by 12:00 in two shoes Home by 12:00 in two shoes Sideways rain that chew the zoot up OK losing a shoe in the mud OK losing a shoe in the mud OK losing a shoe in the mud Sideways rain that chew the roof through Home by 12:00 in two shoes Home by 12:00 in two shoes Home The one with the red cross braid on the door and the mountain of mail on the porch The one with the pit trap cloaked in the grass and the thick black smoke from the cracks The one with the werewolf chained to a tree and a circle of flames at your feet The one with the ominous region of lore Why? Which one's yours? Ignore that, don't care Toast the march of uncombed hair Came from beyond the red coals and road flares X O, bring his own moat to the social I'm so stand offish, nobody's whole sale Don't, just just just just don't Pull to the flames, well push to the rope I get the hooks in, I hold the helm down I stand the hell up, I see myself out