1. |
Beautiful Horses
03:48
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2. |
Sweat Like Wine
03:37
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Spit like whiskey
Sweat like wine
Skin like cocaine
Clean like turpentine
Tears of envy
Pills of rage
The sky was empty
But in the dark it all looks the same
And I can see them sitting on the steps
All those things I forgot to forget to forget
Blushing beauties
Blushing blue
Screams of boredom
Clanging chimes of doom
Bonds of freedom
Vows of lust
Sweet Virginias that you can see
But you just can't touch
I can see their lips move through the shroud
Mouthing things you would never say out loud
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3. |
Symphony of Death
02:25
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4. |
Escalators to the Moon
03:39
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Maybe we're just sedentary people
Living out an average dream come true
I can see the mezzanine in some abandoned strip mall
Escalators stretching to the moon
So Blue
Maybe I'm an ordinary woman
Waiting for an ordinary fool
And I can see you leaving in December
Wondering if words said in the winter
Could Stay True
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5. |
Ugly Butterfly
03:31
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6. |
No Looking
03:33
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Down by the poolside
The photogenic sunset
She squeezed the lime
And wiped her fingers on her swimsuit
And there she laid as yellow faded into orange
She pressed the glass against her lips
And then her forehead
Without looking at me
The pristine lobby
Pouring sugar in her coffee
She placed the matches from the bowl into her purse
And on her phone another simulated sunset
I heard her fingernails
They were clicking against the glass
Without looking at me
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7. |
This is the Dream
02:04
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8. |
Magazines
03:21
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Always looking through
Frosted windows at you
Silhouettes of falling stars
That shattered windshields
Of passing cars
So why's it so hard to believe
That people look like they do in magazines
They're out there somewhere
On starless nights
Have a little faith
They're right there on the page
They're calling your name
It's not safe here anymore
In this convenience store where I was born
The air was cold and pure
The candy shined
Fluorescent candlelight burned through the night
And if the rain comes and washed it all to sea
Leaving only my magazines and me
The world dissolves
We stay the same
Static on a page
And even if it fades
It's still calling your name
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9. |
Magazines Pt. II
03:18
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I'm sick of all the moonlight
That gets in through the seams
It bounces of the countertops
And reflects off magazines
I read it in the cosmos
I saw it in my dreams
But all I ever learned from love
Is you can't stay seventeen
Keep me in your catalogue
Till I'm old and obsolete
A maze of frayed connections
Corrupted memories
fluorescent candles burning
Light without the heat
Commands without an output
Files to delete
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10. |
Vapor Season
03:43
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spittin on ya from the top of the ponzi spilling yr guts just like a fuckin cup of coffee that was held by a jittery hand lifes a beach leave the shoreline littered with cans and i told ya I dont give a frick or a damn if these doggies wanna play I got the stick in my hand and say fetch I came in this bitch to catch wreck and pack techs and cash checks and have sex and crash jets and smash cassette decks and when I start to blast I ask which heads next on no bed rest only lots of fluids I shot the sheriff but I didnt mean to do it but I did it like that and whats done is done thats what you get for sparkin blunts with a gun fuck and run liz phair kicks and snare hats and cymbals and jack was nimble but jack was dim and he wasnt to quick I reached into his pants and I snapped his dick its M-80 the raging id the type to shoot up all the parents and then raise the kids as my own act alone when I crack yr dome pack the cone and light it up like christmas lifes and art and arts a business I leave the crime scene but I never leave a witness
I see pink moons and green glovers silver bullets plus red blood all over the ill soldier snortin pure coca cola tote so many guns I got bad shoulders its a hold up yr best to do what I told ya when I roll up hide the bomb in a stroller and tear the spot with a terrorist plot when I step into the room all the flowers just rot and glass shatters bugs scatter blood splatters it doesnt matter just how bad it gets because it only gets worse matches in my purse to burn the church and spit the gypsy curse I filled the hearse guess I gotta get a crypt I packed the blunt guess its gonna get lit I skip the diss hit you straight with the fist and leave you miffed like gorillas in the mist the queen snake slidin through the police state but these days I have to smoke like three jays just to catch a buzz running from the fuzz do the dinosaur like was not was just because fuck it tatted on my knuckles known to swing a baseball bat below the belt buckle I may chuckle but im far from giddy got my finger on the trigger make it pop like iggy
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11. |
Running in Place
02:04
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BLOODbath64 Los Angeles, California
蒸気のキラー
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