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1:59:48
Retroceder 15 segundos
Avanzar 15 segundos

Who left a whole box of corn flakes

In a locker

At the Equinox

On Wall Street?

I told you go to the one at The Rock.

I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all.

{Enter The Multiverse}

That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy;

I did a whole lot than just

Thought about it

More edits,

More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it;

The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller

With less and less plants in it;

I have your pants on,

But shoes didn't fit

I wrote a whole book and resenting

But still not the movies,

I meant it.

Damn.

She's just so much better than I am

Head in a frying pan on high beforehand,

And however damaged,

It felt bad

I know what I did

I felt that

Camera Obscura, for sure, you know

But disconnect,

Swallow badders, wha— t?!

Get my peanut butter up;

Why!

I'm a circus monkey;

Damn.

I got karma faster

Than I should have known

I lost episodes

And threw away the whole entire show

I went running long

And then I threw up on the subway

I only like the one Sublime album

(The one with wrong way.)

You know?

Cuh' I went the wrong way

I fucked up on all my dollars

I got karma back hard, yah

Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two)

I fall in love inside the tube,

Truth is, though

Teletubbies and teleportation

Ain't so far off from where I come from

Problem is,

Opporsite world,

I'm the story of the whole show;

For sure dawg.

—a situational

Thought process.

When the crack finally kicks in,

Astounding the loss of my confidence

I've gotten lost in a toxic land

I got syndrome “talk to much”

Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable

X's and O's on the tic tac toe board,

Just an underhanded

“I told you so”

All the rockstars want

—Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches?

Nah,

Models and the other types of girls

That never work at all,

They just born at it.

I got bored with it,

But not the fourth one,

Cross my first amendment,

On my heart like catholic

More like Bart Simpsons,

Like art magic

Cause I won't watch that show

But love Matt Groening—

Maybe I'm the type that just

Love hating

But hate loving with

No way to

I don't hate you;

Yeah you're right, I'm off

Take two.

((Good Luck Riding The J Home.))

Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess

I got so many plausible options, I guess

I should call on one of them,

Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics

I can't let my lantern out of gas,

We're not friends, are we?

What a fiend! Are you offended?

I just want to see my dreams relayed to me—

Is that too much to ask?

So I'm the asshole.

What did I pack a bag for?!

Picnic baskets.

What did I leave this curse for?

Nothing,

Thanks for asking, Nance.

I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon.

I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton.

This automation algorithm— is it?

Doesn't make a difference.

I spilled blood inside my kitchen,

Put deposits on a flicker,

Tricked the treasure at a phantom,

Phantom

I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one;

There's only God,

There's only us—

There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one.

Squeeze em hard, ya'll.

Don't let me love God.

Don't let me talk back,

I'm not about a rack.

Tantrum, yes.

Talk to my God.

Please.

Talk to me God.

Now.

Talk to my family one time.

Now.

Talk out me sideways—

Now.

Bring me a rebel.

Now.

I have a headache.

Now.

I got regrets son.

Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open:

I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean,

Calm before storm comes

Out on a surfboard

Look at the full moon—

Nobody can hear you so

SCREAM.

Now.

For crying out loud,

Take the knife out,

For a second or thought, I'm a wife now;

What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist—

Your back room was only your conscious—

Now I'm looking at my left side,

Also catatonic,

Not aboard the problem like you wanted,

What an order form for border patrol,

You want tall glasses of hard fortune,

Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough.

I'm in love with you, but in poverty—

There the devil is.

But oh, aren't we all familiar?

Suit and tie hangs to the tide,

I tie the knot with rope from which I die,

And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off,

Diving board or world one antenna?

Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive—

Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone

Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go

Or it falls out and to the ground

Not only will I float up,

But the world will open

And swallow us all whole

((Down.))

I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today

I owe a bank my very and entire existence

It is what it claims to be, these days ring true

Nothing these days sounds like music but you.

I put that book back on the shelf;

Rewound the tape before I put it in the case

I knew it would be late because, well

That's the way it always is

That's the way I always am

I'm sorry mom.

That's the way it always is—

They told me I don't need no makeup on,

However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two,

Or twenty two,

Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story.

When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this

[that's called a God Complex]

It's all behind us now, or rather

All up front

And out in the open

In twelve point font

As if I would ever cop to it

I took the wrong way to Wall Street l

Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock,

Long before this all was ever thought of,

And I held her seed in the heart of my palm

God said go the other way,

I said

“Okay”

I want to see how much money I make;

I wear makeup,

I got nothing

So much for a body

I got stuck with words and good talking,

And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard

So what's the cost for a whole table turn?

So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.”

Huh?

What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office?

What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song—

Don't get me wrong

I have original music

I'm just hard getting to it;

The motors are running

The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer

Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting

But I been wanting some corn on the cob

To talk to my mom

To call some place home

To care for my son

To wake up on Sunday past noon like

“That was a good show.”

And the next sold out .

real talk, I got real problems

Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock,

Choking back cocaine

All the world under me,

Mad at the world though

For not looking up to me

Huh

I call this suffering

Cause I already been been hungry,

And homeless

So I know this

Pit-of-your stomach

And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really

Sits somewhere between

“Hopeless”

And “not good”

But hey—

If you were to say “how's your day”

I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of

“Please help me.”

Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents;

However,

Seems like,

It isn't worth the breathing, really

Oddly, I forget to—

Then I get this special feeling,

Almost sentimental, inside my head

I don't need medicine as much as

I just need a friend besides my cat

—thoughts of hammers in my brain—

If I could tell you what the level of the pain is?

Mercy.

There doesn't seem to be a number

Merry Christmas,

Let's get displaced;

Case is dismissed—

Let's get shitfaced

Wash the dishes,

Pick the peloton,

Pick imaginary friends

And watch the President be hilarious,

Until it effects us negative and in the read,

When peanut butter bread and jelly

All you ever get for breakfast

For extended periods of time.

Hah.

Bloodshed?

Wrong.

Blood hound?

Bad.

Segmented thoughts on a toothache?

Too late.

I hate to tell you what the truth is,

Cause you'd hate it.

Useless.

Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste

And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks

But I can't do this anymore

I want to choose live;

Inside my death is

The whole of the city,

Electric and Thomas Edison

And impressive Mister Business—

Rockerfeller read about it;

Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people!

Something simple says,

“Just stop it.”

Choke a chicken over breakfast,

Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think

Today will be the day

That I give bacon

To charity,

No care left, to give a gift

So thankful,

For being blessed with time to waste

To write this piece of shit

I guess I died I guess in family guy?

I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence—

…like, a British baby?

And a talking dog?

And a dumb ass dad?

And a bunch of songs?

And some salad dressing,

To go with that master habit of getting

Grams and Grammies;

But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God,

I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court—

But not to work at all,

Only order sandwhiches

Obsession has its advantages and platinum records,

If you tap into it directly.

Forget it. I'm out of magic.

Or out of patience— out of time for petitions,

But which one is it?

Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect

Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders?

Learn your lesson well;

There's got to, got to be a reason why

The wrong way is the right.

There's got to be a reason why—

My day becomes the night.

There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper,

But I've got to figure out my rhythm later;

I gone up instead of downtown,

Turn the clock before the sunrise,

I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai.

Gotta love a synchronicity;

I get stuck inside bronze statues

Door way syndrome

And I shutter just to never remember him

But here the picture is, a perfect person

Headless and befriended him, the lover

The line inside my mind is crossed

I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one.

My thoughts the first time I saw him?

I hate him,

Cause he'll never love me.

What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem.

One more,

I don't remember where I'm going

Day to,

I have to remember to forget you

Take three,

I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things

Because I'm maybe going crazy;

From the outside though, you wouldn't know it

Low and behold, this is my show afterall

And covered in gold like the whole of the moon

I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you,

You looks twisted

Get out of your head, and turn off your television

Go on a walk,

Get run over by a bus or motorcycles

Turn around and talk to God and your disciples

— cause they all watch.

Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run,

And now another pilot that I'm proud of—

Stop looking at the ground—

It hurts.

Today, I learned my lesson,

It was not a new apartment—

It's a prison.

I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”.

The cat needs water,

My heart needs captions.

New York needs Jesus

Hope he don't see this

(Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it,

Or

Even if he did

He's having trouble learning English,

And,

Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us;

We worship dollars

A cock-shaped structures in New York—

TIME TRAVELER

Its called The Rock.

SUPER NEW YORKER

What.

TIME TRAVELER

I'm looking for The Rock.

SUPER NEW YORKER

What's that.

TIME TRAVEL

It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.”

SUPER NEW YORKER

What's that.

TIME TRAVELER

It's a building? I guess?

SUPER NEW YORKER

It's not.

TIME TRAVELER

It is. It's—

SUPER NEW YORKER

It's not.

TIME TRAVELER

But—

*fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.*

TIME TRAVELER

Huh.

the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo;

(Like Marty McFlyim back to the future)

Contd

Must be the wrong dimension…

But then

JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL.

Oh no!

So that's what happened…

Yeah? He was a bastard.

Well!

Damn.

{Enter athe Multiverse}

So you're everywhere all the time,

And I got nothing left to run

And we already talked the talk

And we're already back to one

Let the waves blow over,

Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking

Putting every penny on the promise that you got me

But you never save me,

Really, Jesus? Racist!

I got a lot of stakes in the game

And all these snakes keep weighing in!

I got these eight days left inside my head,

And I'm a murderer

Remember to admit his wrong you are

Next time the caw will crow.

I crevice drawing under rock

Inside the undertoe,

My surfboard heading home for shore,

My body going under.

Oh Conan, what have you done.

I'm not sure yet.

So? Go get him, you old hoot.

I just want to watch a little longer!

*feathers ruffled*

What! It is comical

So i'm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic,

Adding up the dollar signs and losses,

Well now,

Got my hosts and calling cards,

And struck with dirty dozens

Doesn't anybody understand?

[no. Nobody does.]

Certainly, you know, nobody does this.

Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands

Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it.

For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket .

Well done, folks.

Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying.

I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause

Nobody knows where they come from;

Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul

It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears

Here, solar panels

Animals and tragic circumstances,

Fucking Asholes

Never shine your diamond on the twilight,

Shooting stars;

Never shoot at birds from cars;

Remember,

They are flying.

I swallowed you whole,

I swallowed you whole,

I swallowed you, done.

I swallowed you whole,

I swallows you whole,

I swallowed you down some.

I swallowed you whole,

I swallowed you whole,

I swallowed you up;

I swallowed you whole

I swallowed you whole,

You know what the cost is

Just a heads up,

If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face,

They run away.

The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon.

When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established.

It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind;

The more evidence you gather,

It becomes a verifiable crime.

Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly,

The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world—

A loss of God.

And also remember,

Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand,

And cannot control—

However, also,

God comes in all forms.

You must know when all is all.

Okay, shh—

Don't lock the door, now

You got a pardon,

You better run.

I am an a-list celebrity;

I am an “amen, sister—

I hear that!”

I am a medicine woman,

A centrifugal figure,

A ritual character,

Skilled at charicature—

A big Kimmel fan,

A rick and a Morty,

A woman a man,

A puppet, the master,

A cat in a hatbox,

A blasphemous coffin;

A wart on a warflower.

Hm.

Now who could possibly take that out of context?

Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street.

I love all four stories,

I rode all four horses,

I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface

Then I rolled it up

Huh…

Somebody does that.

Leets go, hard core

But don't forget the hot sauce

Don't forget the —

Smattercat?!

SMATTERCAT?!

SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT!

The Adventures of Atticus Catticus.

Man, this is fucked up.

I can't disagree with you.

I can't get you out of my head

(I want head)

Can't get you out of my mind

I find that

You must want me dead

Tan lines l

You must want me off my meds!

You want in me in bed at 9 sharp

You know what!?

You remind me of Harper.

Now let's talk shop,

Calm, little brother

I went with the other oath—

Don't you belong to God?

Who's on the phone?

Donald Trump.

Tell him “no.”

No to what?

Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster.

So what do you got in your supplements?

Simple psychology;

Have a red album.

Nah that.

I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes

Pulled apart orgasms,

Never been touched, sire.

Never have I took forgranted this passion(

Never have

—that flex—

Theatrical pangentry.

Never went

Ham sandwhich

Ham sandwhich

Ham sandwhich

GODDAMMIT.

I thought you grant wishes.

— also in charge of summoning.

Part time.

Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job!

I'm so sick of this kid,

He just summons

“Ham sandwhich”

What's wrong with that?

I gave him “ham sandwhich”,

Alright?!

All kinds,

And you know what?

That guy has all kinds of magic—

All the kinds—

Every kind you can imagine,

And no matter what,

He just wants.

Hmmmm…:

….

Come on. Summon a dog, or something…

A new bike…

…….

……..::::

…….

….

Ham sandwhich.

GOD DAMMIT.

…and a kite.

…what was that?

I want a kite.

Y…you want to fly a kite.

Ya.

Alright!

But first.

An, God.

Ham Sandwhich.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?

SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN!

SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES!

AND ALL THE KENNEDIES!

FUCK WITH ME.

Somebody shoot that bitch.

But sir—

Before she runs for president.

But sir…

THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER.

You're right.

TAKE THE SHOOOOOT.

MEANWHILE…

In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY

Oh good.

What's that.

Someone one assasinated me.

That's good.

I'll say.

Wouldn't want you to run for president.

Someone still would have had to elected me.

Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here.

*shrugs*

They'll collapse eventually.

They haven't yet.

I just got assasinated. Wait for it.

I've been waiting.

I don't get why you hate me so much.

I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting.

I just got assasinated.

And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences.

It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension;

Did I correct you—

Lessons, I'm not making any promises.

Look out little brother! I set them on you.

Got to put the pudding in your pot—

And don't forget to floss.

What's corrextions?

Look, I'm anatomically correct—

Shut up, Ken.

I don't click on videos or images

Because I love him

It's just a crush,

A pair of wooden crutches

A horcrux

And a fox

A crucifix

And Sunday Brunches.

It's just a bunch of pictures,

Edits, autographs,

Extended plays

It's just an infinite inside my head—

It's been a couple days.

A couple miles down

And sure to go,

You're all for it—

Soon you got to know

Whatever you done

Has come for your—

Stop the truck for misuse of four muses

And autotune to ruin it—

Your mascot is a narwhal

But you're rooting for the Bruins.

What is even a Bruin?

A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens?

Bet that

Okay,

Like,

I fall in love

But just to write a bit

I pour my heart out in a song

And for the moment

I could make forget i'm ugly

Even if for the duration of the half time;

Half a pack at halftime,

Half a pack at bedtime

20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision.

Three beers,

Then three beers

Thirty three years and he still won't love me

Thirty three years and I'm still no woman.

He show first,

So I shot back

I forgot rock doves

Served a purpose

Postage

For lost albums on the surface

Surfboards

For hot rod bod host,

I offered up Conan,

Now pick that hard eye

Banjo up

Water dance

Pick that apple,

Off the tree

With not a scratch

Hands tied behind your back;

Baggage claim,

River dance

Pick it up without a fork

You whispered us a state of trance

For God's socks,

If I fly coach,

Low ball

Lost a fortune

Don't call me ‘bud'

I think about your walk all day;

Like,

Three or four times, maybe

Not no noodle soup, you wonder

But you're asking for a

Ballroom.

Haggard.

God did far too good a job on you;

As the car jumped over the moon.

I complete your meat puppet,

But recently went vegan

Line them up and then

A heart attack,

A hot bath,

And a hammock.

You got your offer,

But I want it back,

I want my roses.

Golden proses so rit and rattle.

I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble;

Damn.

I just can't get you off my head without ramble

You're probably on a tour bus;

She's pulling out all the stop—

But you're my monster, just know that

Although

I'm on top of her turf.

So much for

Service Monday.

So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct.

So much for love as.

He aim for the head;

I aim for the neck;

He aim for the heart,

I duck,

I fall in her eyes,

High water—

No more cam tide

Sunsets.

What,

I get you really wanted oceans,

So you got them.

Godsense.

Pull, Conan Pull—

Haul in!

All in on your cards,

But take the occult off them;

Offering?

Totem pole.

More than one?

I love to hope.

Fix your face.

Pull the plug—

I'm off till Sunday,

Off till Sunday.

Ten days to Tuesday,

You want no more

Ten days to Sunday

And ten more before that;

Ten tongues before dawn,

And other I slaughter

And slaught cross the sloth,

I wither,

Your honor.

Ten tales too soon,

Ten wide my diamonds;

Ten eyes in your Isis,

My mind, Orion.

Ten lost in the Outback;

Ten lost on your mass, tongue

Two whipped at the alter—

I called her about that.

So to the effect you check your fax and press the send,

I'm steady living, never coming back,

Or cap the president—

Never living,

Never listing residence on Madison

You're stuck inside my half-life

That I'm mad besides the medicine.

You're stuck inside my past,

Like all the knives inside my back,

And still I fondly think upon a laugh,

As ice cream sundaes,

Half a sandwich

Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art,

The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands

And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins,

The wicked summers and the bitter winters came,

But did not cross paths,

So to not bear ties, and to not plug

Holes in the hull of the whole ship

I think I sunk overtime instead of rather

All at once,

You know,

It doesn't suffix

What it takes to turn it back from

“Love him”

Into nothing.

20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers,

But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers—

Scatterbrained but highly trained in

“Never Happened.”

“Didn't matter.”

So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors.

Why'd you flash me, dancer,

Don't you know how bad I want that?

Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat

Nail box fires

Had you ordered

Your desires

Flow the golden drifter

Fear of rivers never frozen.

Don't you know the sun draws close

But the heart grows cold,

But the want goes harder?

Don't you know the doors get shut,

And the Kings get cut,

And the wind blows wilder?

Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky

(They all fall from the sky,

They fell from the sky)

Don't you know

We're all gonna die

Put a trial to the wand,

Fore you take her heart out

Ten times.

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