Holy Waterfall

(álbum: Spirit World Field Guide - 2020)

I'm a glutton where the food still shimmy and shake
Not a fingerprint to pin him to a physical plane
Probably show up as an isolated pocket of cold
Got a way of making tilapia hop in the boat
I was fending off a lizard on the dock of the lake
At Siem Reap, smoking something I forgot how to say
Maybe twenty paranoia, eighty plotted against
Palm reader calling in his archaeologist friend
It's been a long and bitter breakup with the science of sleep
I'm through the lobby on my stomach with a knife in my teeth
Brave winter, rain slicker over mutinous code
Finally free of all you fuckers I should pull through a phone
I could transform later when the gradient fade
There's a paranormal energy awake and engaged
There's a Kawasaki out behind a barn in Angkor
Money said if you could start it, it's yours

Forecast warm, leftover chicken for the dogs
I've been jumping over fences in a hundred different forms
Next week warm, message at the tone
I've been sketching on the roof or getting sketchy in the strobe
Warm, six legs circling a drain
I been swatting him for twenty, it's impervious to pain
Next week warm, rattle in the cough
I been running ragged tryna shake an apparition off

In the pitch dark searching for the source of the hex
Got a loyal tentacle in every corner of heck
Hooded figure from the wreckage of an alien ship
Nescafé washing down a snake on a stick
Spotted floating down a river tryna curse in Khmer
With no shirt, seven days worth of dirt in his hair
When the motor finally folded to the accident prone
Had to flag another captain, phantasm in tow
I've been ignoring any semblance of relatable Earth
I got a homie from the region who could name every bird
And tell you what it is to wake up with a tank in the yard
Type of shit to make you question what your days even are
There's a holy waterfall where you could rinse and repeat
Find religion while the minnows eat the skin off your feet
If you wake me on a January morning at four
Don't get excited when I bark at the door

Forecast warm, leftover chicken for the dogs
I've been jumping over fences in a hundred different forms
Next week warm, message at the tone
I've been sketching on the roof or getting sketchy in the strobe
Warm, six legs circling a drain
I been swatting him for twenty, it's impervious to pain
Next week warm, rattle in the cough
I been running ragged tryna shake an apparition off

Y'all keep not being shit, all I do is chomp at the bit
Caltrop in his foot, still hop to the bridge
All rah, rah, a pox on your kin
Pass through the prism, maintain position
Knock over everything, walk away whistling
False name, I work at a fake business
Daybreak 'til I break up into trained pigeons
And I came from the cave paint, chase painkillers
Tailed by an arcane shape in the scribble
I stake out snakes that forsake the sigil
Wait 'em out, show 'em how the wavelength ripple
I'm afraid they don't wanna see a wound-up truant
Get to walk down a street to the sound of doves cooing
Doves like, "I love what you doing, even when it's drugs at the ruin"
Money, I was plucked from the fire, jumped back in the fire
It's fucked, you're free to hire another pathfinder
Skull and bones humming the tones that don't bode well
Only if you may have built an altar at the hotel, oh well