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• Artiste: Aesop Rock
• Titre: Bring Back Pluto
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In the beginning it was large marge sent me, iʼm bent, empty the rent if you can double park the garbage barge gently, the moon took a second mortgage on the 7th house, and jupiter ainʼt talk to mars, he felt to host the rover sold him out, close your mouth, poke your snout over the cloaked aroma clouds, solar boy elope with couch ogling older polaroids, motor mouth chauffeur the golden molar toy, gophers yolk a fish out of water, he grows lungs and multiplies. idle, when soldering a perfect union, it is vital to calculate any ornery loose ends, so if mutiny ensues the aloof is assumed nuisance,the clue is in his vacany, the proof is in his goosebumps, maroon the traitors expecting acres of edelweiss, who later learn it may actually be safer to play with knives, i show up late lookinʼ all project grizzly, 2 bowies, a 3rd for throwing, and accomplish dickweed, nothing, nada, nill, i stuff a lot of pill to gut, whatʼs the proper rules on stuffing hostages in trucks? iʼll be numb enough to chill before the choppers spill the blood, but if iʼm not... fuck it, plug him, warpy got his god damned groove back, jet-setting on spec with a dead yetti on the roof rack, and miscreants will rubberneck jalopy euthanasia which will later be regretted when itʼs your turn for cremation, and i walk like early man, freak a little witch hunt, gathering the carnies and exploitng every stigma, the malformed oddities among sovereigntyʼs normal, shall abuse every vice you can imagine right before you. all i thought of was the cloven-hooved, and how they clip-clip-clop over the woven roofs, with a nose for commotion and stolen goods, now tell me what the fuck am i supposed to do? in the mean time 9 minus 1 left 8, in the mean time 9 minus 1 left 8, in the mean time 9 minus 1 left 8, we were busy putting barbs on a large iron gate. stare into the glowing eye of cerberus and grow, authoritative laminates will not repel the quarantined alone, all the town sickly know the coke machine as home, where they sit and hope the ovaltine that nobles drink is strong. couples only roller rink with soul to kiss your chicken to, before they wiggle mittens through the pillory to ridicule, and you can hear the iron maidens lock, or see the town crierʼs ankle stock chained up to the tanker truck, A is up early, ring and run, thank you much, document a little of that underbelly bang for buck, hey, i walk as the hype of the city gossip, meaning every dumpster diverʼs gotta vomit up a comment like, �you ainʼt shit, this ainʼt ill�, this is little russian dolls that get smaller and smaller still, this a corpse full of pills tryinʼ to sit still and build, cuz 8 planets bullied number 9 until he fell. babylon goggles, gawk for the galvatron coppers, tugboat salvage all fossils, iʼll be shepherd when the whirlybirds deny the lepers doctors, if iʼm not.... fuck it, the terrible metal hacking seeds upʼs as american as ski up off a plastic d-cup. youʼd think charlie brown was weathermen how i zig-zag around these yellow backs for peanuts, in the baggy stomach lining attached to the bums in hiding sits the morals every outing would slide to refine his grinding, when the freakishly disfigured have been triggered to surround you , you will live inside the actual second they let the hounds loose.