Button Masher
(专辑: Spirit World Field Guide - 2020)
Mash the
buttons, knock knock, never yield Phobias in motion blowing smoke into the
sterile field Wonkavator up beyond the
seraphim, terra beneath the
keratin Every bit precariously jerry-rigged His helmet is a
case of Bud, he factor in the
paper cuts Corrugated cockpit, I'm not exactly Major Tom Buzzed Aldrin, I
can't count backwards Ten, one, someone get this buzzard to the
Matmos Ten thousand hours addressing open beaks Exiting the
atmosphere with no green to chroma key Greebles on the
body, tin cans on the
bumper Slip into the
freezing ether like a
pea coat from his mother How much interstellar freedom can he reasonably suffer? More than you can feed through a
shutter I
use a
phony voice when I'm yelling, "Nobody's home" I'm a
liar, but I
wouldn't say I'm wrong I
ain't really seen land in a
minute AWOL spaceman, wave to the
Mrs Faint transmission after nothing for the
summer I
have never seen so many colors Uh, ayy The
human heart tattoo move in a
hard vacuum Only back to pay a
bill or maybe fill a
cart with cat food I'm shredded, smelling like I
just stepped off a
charred capsule, I
did That's not imaginary ash in his wig That's rounding Cygnus with a
souvenir from galaxy quest I
know it sound like myth and magic, but the
shrapnel commits I
give a
fuck about a
factory scent, we mostly play to the
fringe They figure, "What's a
little tape on the
wings?" A
little glue, a
little paint, a
little staple and string You won't believe how far the
garbage when that radio ping Behold a
view or two where you could lose your voice at the
moon I
hope you like your beef and veggies with the
moisture removed Dig it, the
low rider, lower the
gold visor Nosedive guided by the
ghost of Laika, my heavens Slow drive, side-eye stealthy When can we expect you? Why would you expect me? I
ain't really seen land in a
minute AWOL spaceman, wave to the
Mrs Faint transmission after nothing for the
summer I
have never seen so many colors Tangentially related in the
sense of one's environment Informing what they're made of There was a
ghost who broke it all up into tiny numbers And dated vector graphics and New York Times puzzles Who struggled knowing love as more than boring data entry More reported from an orbit all his own, to say it gently I'm reporting from an orbit all my own, to say it gently Catch a
wave in the
jalopy down to burn up on re-entry Man the
laser, do you copy? Keep invaders on the
business end Autopilot zeroes in on zero wind for pissing in Fixer-upper, she putt like a
Plymouth Duster From bucket to mothership, if you're up for a
little sunburn, stat Neighbors at the
mercy of a
thin wall One side nap, one satellite pinball Fun size asteroids pinging off the
cabin Ping, ping, the
soundtrack of shrinking into blackness I
blink through 4D, droid sitting bitch scorned The
voice of destroy and rebuild Who rose above the
partly cloudy counting on a
Galaga hack His only carry-on's a
napkin of math From packed in a
menagerie to cheese and crackers at the
apogee Add a
little finding God and trying not to atrophy, um I
know you're whispering about me at the
corner store "We've seen the
glowing light from under his apartment door" I
ain't really seen land in a
minute AWOL spaceman, wave to the
Mrs Faint transmission after nothing for the
summer I
have never seen so many colors