Attaboy
(专辑: Spirit World Field Guide - 2020)
Hi everybody, hope you're doing well Today I
want to talk to you about the
different levels of the
spirit world I
been floating down the
River Styx Skipper cap, sipping on what's missing from your mini-fridge Insulated slicker dripping, winter like, "It's Britney, bitch" Crops wither, docks splinter into popsicle sticks Beyond the
hissy fit, he ain't but a
hound dog I'm Bamm-Bamm, pianos fall on me and bounce off Vampyrella riding pillion through the
eventide Indecency that deck the
halls, an eye in each Venetian blind I'm meat into the
Venus fly, ears back and hackles up Shifting with the
shadow play, I
show 'em how to rabbit hunt It helps if you're particularly paranoid Enough to know there's no such thing as an extraction point Attaboy, I'm a
sucker for stolen bases Bathing in open ocean and shaving in Mobil stations Away from the
hocus pocus The
nauseating social codes and motives The
homies demoted to interlopers Look, I
can help you tumble through the
galaxy Somersaulting backwards into vacuous finality Shabby chic, overnight a
fireball from magic camp Inspired by a
banzai fly into Manhattan clam No hands, pissing off the
ferry, mission-ready The
flesh and blood are present while the
rest is vision-questing Plugged in, gloves off, shushing all tough talk Nowhere to be found at the
trust fall I'm saying "fuck y'all", live and direct I
make a
Judas shoot a
flare up from the
Isle of the
Dead I
got a
network in the
netherworld I
seldom reveal It get a
threat to get to stepping out my energy field Behold the
nobody who show up uninvited like his 'chute failed Blue streak, speak in minor pentatonic blues scale Doors blast open for the
never not backlit Never not eradicating pathogens Rat catcher, capture both the
flag and the
bannermen Batter up, throw a
badass to the
basilisk Throw a
fucking crab off a
mountain top Free freefalling with the
shuttle parts and flowerpots Odd hours, I'm up with the
spotted owls Spot a
coward in the
commons how he spot a
common mouse At a
half mile, last-minute mohawk Eyes closed, ear to the
road salt, all I
hear is Mozart Gale force winds whipping through your floppy hat Glitch in the
hologram, trick any polygraph Chocolate from the
faucet, fish in the
lava lamp Sofa on the
ceiling only come down for karate class I'm in pajama bottoms listening to Chaka Khan Eating matcha Pocky knocking posses out the
polygon I
see you proper hobnobbing with the
la-di-da That kind of shit is simply not the
way I
pop and lock