Correction Paroles Salt par Aesop Rock

Retour

Paroles

Severe cold, stare at the code
Keep a small circle like a deer in a scope
Let me clear my throat (Let me clear my throat)
Pocket full of rocket fuel and pyramid stones
Invoke a spirit from the parallel
Appearing as a monk of news
That drag you to the shadow realm
And back for show and tell, it’s cool
Promising a future more bedraggled than bedazzled
When it isn’t you, it’s me, began the dagger to the scabbard
Free snake tats, plays on train tracks
Storm like a door to Hell, the doorbell plays Taps
Born inside a ring of baffled demonologists
A casualty of otherness, what the fuck’s an olive branch?
Rats as big as cattle sent to Babylon convulsing
The home sweet home that sees you as bag of hostile protein
While I do believe that you believe you’re adding to the magic of the motif
Homie, all I hear is “Dad, I want a pony”
Fuck the police, I’m floating out with the (?)
Property of nada, runs on Trompe Le Monde and Otter Pops
Roger that, cobblestone beyond the common polygraph
His middle fingers wear little safari hats
Chainsaw shave in the house of a thousand tonics
They’re magic if you need a cure for lack of sour vomits
Hon, it’s not a thing
Everywhere I go I call to make sure there’s a fog machine
Posse up and follow the anomalies

That’s a unique wind
Spun a whip out in the snow
Really ain’t got shit
Your condition is not a condition we know
(Maximum effect)

The rats are back and built their own ship
They’re backstroking faster than the old ship
A rat’s a rat, it scatters, that’s like its magic power
The bowing out it when your house is being smashed to powder
Ping in the rubble, located burning his bacon
Ravens deliver him trinketry, an eternal damnation
I make disturbing the stasis a game to beat when the mania boils
Even the days when the pavements keeping his platelets employed
Stole a ox on occasion
I go through wands too quickly to name ‘em
Okay I’ll name one, it’s the rod of fuck the nonsense
A basic wave and nod’ll turn bravado into fondant
We slalom from beyond the wildly oscillating compass
Whether you connect the dots or not is truly not my problem
The milieu with the color of permanent cloud cover
Though I’ve heard there might be others, I’ll buy it when it buffers
Until then I dry a lifeless pile of “Whys?” and “Ay carambas”
In a bubble watching dumpster fires multiply in numbers
I know that fear and love and death and pride and romance hold you
By your Chukkas, though it’s unclear what some closure might encompass
Amid divisive symmetry from civil war and swim ashore
Sob story same as yours, but a little more, ha!
I’m in the alley pacing
I’m skirting curtain call
I make my hospital corners in a circle of salt

That’s a unique prayer
Pretty nervous on the low
Only came up for air
You condition is not a condition we know

clip

Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.