Testo The tugboat complex Aesop Rock

The tugboat complex

Oh my GodThey've got angels sweatin' like Hell, it'sworkin' their little halos to the bone combing them desertsmy figure eight knottedlifeline defined trafficthe way my schoolin' end-less-ly defined every dayone exquisite fitted crisis rivets an octagon of redto the ceiling above my bedit's not a conversation piece, like public spectaclesunleashed more of a clueso when I wake up to the rains I'll be one step ahead of you
I slide like Kodakrome(?)wrote a poem for every planettracked their mileage from the sun in an envelopelicked it, stamped itgot eight thank yous in the mail, but nine planets means there's one leftonly the earth would thank me later with a breath taking sunset(man, I'm just a bum)zip that waterfall around your skeletontell it to boilloyalties, the shovel in the soildig it, I split my lip kissing the winternursed the blister in the sunstrung a hammock between spring and where the willows turn to bloodmight of workedsip a little, litter it, love itwithout big beetles trying to sell him sunflower seeds by the bucketmight of, tugboat for the boxcutter above those asheswithout hot air balloons floatin' their four passenger basketsand I'm asking youto let a captive lacerate a captionsplash out massiveapolster plastic glasses with famine patchesi-dentify all saints linked around the fountain's warmthand for a second taste of pain when removing that crown of thorns?????,???,???, born hostile, pacifist huddled in subtle masochiststamp the blame on ??? ???my fire escape overlooks ghost town market placeartists bought out passesthen fast themselves to the target's faceyou're killin' me if I had a hammer, I'd build a city on stiltsso my feet would stay dry when God's wine glass tilts if I had a shovel, I'd dig a hole in the dirtand I'll be hiding when his drunken stupor lands upon earth and if your little wing is brokenI'll see the poacher in hell
I can't afford another ????? in a cellmy carousel mimics the interests of a thousand leaking spicketsand a colony of graziers raised to justify the grimace(and yes I read the treaty)
I prescribe the remedy plus the premisesmy pin cushion, my limbs pushin' the knitting needleevils, idle, peddle past the greetingwhere the sleepers feed the cyclesstop, watch the eagles board the little engine that could notghost in a shelland it fell in my lappassin', postin' the bail but the guard has misplaced the key ring (that'swonderful)I lead a flee to blaze exact songs directly into the villagepower supply burning the bridge between the magnet and my eyenow how many cadavers satisfy a mad man?and how many crooked samaritans turn plesantville to bad land?
I can count my own dusty nickels with you laughingabout you'll turn my poor ass ebony and navy with cane lashings(well, you're right)grip your pointed stick, incite your riotI'll sell your worth in a bottle at profit, explain my biasatomic box cult, downward spiral rapidlycast to hell with hate mail, forged Christ's autographlaughed itself, drastic catastrophebiting my lipskin and bones, stringentbingin' on rancid baitsmummified well inside a muddy New York minutewas it your remnants my smoke rings have cocooned prior to fading?well, it wasn't conscious spite but it might have been that I am not your friend anymoremy arrow head dissertation(?)when narrow bed sleepers occupy the basementand I am not your friend anymorecome the dawning of ???? in your pity blend that whispers in the wind man, if it were only that simpleI'd add a guilt frame to ???I'd board myself inside my room to trace the wilting contourone petal falls to the rug, she loves me nottown crier lugging a boom box with spirit plugsand a red radio flyertied to irony like twenty burning igloos with a sailors knotfiddler crabs build sandcastles while high tide off azalea cropsin the icicle field I portray, cats get antsyand ask 'why if every light is dark do I continue dancing?' why if every light is dark do I continue dancing? why if every light is dark do I continue dancing? why if every light is dark do I continue dancing?well if it ain't finally a question that's worth answering I boogie for the raindropsfor the purity, the angerfor my childhood recollectionsfor the comic book in my heartthe mocked intentionsthe clarity, passion, seclusionthose cool summer nightsfor the mark emerging across the street selling me stog's at half pricefor the mights, the maybes, the nauseating pitfallmy girl, my friendsfor the fact my window opens towards a brick wallfor the three legged dog I saw dragged on a leashfor the homeless man who walks my block in rainstorms with plastic bags onhis feetsee I throw away the tenders over one shoulderand walk across broken glassthrough every wicked world to kiss tomorrow's morningnot for nothingyou'll drown in a pool of your crooked moralswhispering 'maybe Aesop Rock was on to something' maybe, no promises