Fck Ths Thngs
Join Date: May 2014
Originally Posted by Mord
As the great poet Aesop Rock puts it:
I've been loving his new album.. Blood Sandwich, Rings, and Shrunk in particular..
I can't decide between these 3 soo..
Shrunk - track about going to see a shrink
She says, "I'm not your enemy."
I said, "That sounds like something that my enemy would say
Instead of playing off the chemistry."
She said, "You're being difficult."
I said, "I'm being guarded; you're a quarter mil in debt
I get more guidance from my barber
Look, I'm not good at this, I grew up in a noogie-fest
You built your walls up high
Or say goodbye to all your Cookie Puss
Here's one: every time my telephone buzzes
I see images of hooded riders setting fire to hundreds."
She said, "When you start getting all expressive and symbolic
It's impossible to actualize an honest diagnostic."
I said, "When you start getting all exact and algebraic
I'm reminded it's a racket, not a rehabilitation."
Okay, agree to disagree as grown-ups from opposing clans
Honoring the push and pull, I should have called the Scholomance
Oh well, preservation is a doozie
"Will you be needing another appointment?" – "Absolutely,"
Rings - track about being an artist
Used to paint
Hard to admit that I used to paint
Natural light on a human face
Stenciled fire on his roommate's bass
It was blooming addiction
Amiss in the pushing of pigment
Book like a tattooed pigskin, look
Pinhead kids of the minute
Drank Kool-Aid from a tube of acrylic
And it grew up into linseed oil over linen
Joy to the poison, voice of the resin
Capture a map of the gesture
Back up, add a little accurate fat to the figure
Redo that, move that inward
Zinc white lightning shoots from his fingers
Studio strewn with illusion and tinctures
Stay tuned for the spooky adventures
You can't imagine the stars that align
When a forearm starts foreshortening right
Or a torso hung on a warping spine
In proportion reads as warm and alive
Routine day with a dirt cheap brush
Then a week goes by and it goes untouched
Then two, then three, then a month
And the rest of your life, you beat yourself up
I left some seasons eager to fall
I left some work to bury alive
I let my means of being dissolve
I let my person curl up and die
Eating up his innards, an unfeasible anxiety
Has brutally committed to relinquishing his privacy
Aligning with the trials of the anti-Midas
Nap on the back lawn, look up in the sky, it's…
Blood Sandwich - track about stories from Aesop's childhood
Not a part of the machine
Big brother, big idea, '90, 16
Neubaten tee, plaid flannel-laden adolescent art kid
Tony Hawk hair, Skinny Puppy denim
And a record player vomiting Alien Sex Fiend
Peel sessions in a Christian home for field testing
It's real youth in the palm of your hand
When your mom thinks Satan is involved in a band
We were buried in the Village Voice
Checking who was playing where
Pulled his head up out the paper, pushing out a single tear
Five words, like a beacon of light in the mist:
"Ministry live at the Ritz"
It was Christ has risen to Chris
3 loaves, 2 fish
Miracle of mechanized loops on 2-inch
Coming to a theater he would be there in the flesh
Moms didn't say "No," but she didn't say "Yes"
Cop tickets, ah the plot thickens
Countdown to ultimate concert experience
Ma still wary
"...and why are they called Ministry?! Are they a cult?!..."
Maybe she would properly investigate
Bought a mag with an Al Jourgensen interview
Read a couple sentences, glanced at a pic or two or three
That's all, no fair trial
Simply, "You will not be going to the show and that's final!"
What occurred next were the top of the lungs of a son who unjustly had lost what he loved
In a moment that would transcend anger to high art
Said, "This is something I am willing to die for!"
Can you even imagine a death in the fam from industrial fandom?
Anyway, no body count no concert and Chris kicked rocks in his mismatched Converse
Behind every tree is a cutting machine and a kite fallen from grace.
Inside every man, is a heart of sand, you can see it in his face.
He'll tick tick, tick tick, tick tick tick away;
another second lost with every fallen grain.