1. |
||||
|
the jail cell wall says,
"i love victoria",
encased by two swan's necks, embraced
the court case was a bad circumstance cornucopia
she likely looked lovely laden with with lace
1
2
3
4
lace laden lace
i waste my days laying down,
imagining them dancing....
their footworks paints smiles from oil frowns
fingers in the hair form exquisite royal crowns
and their alternating whispers & laughter
loyal sounds
my mystery man surely in a sharp tailored stout
and her in a springtime blossoming flower gown
watch them souls go around
|
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2. |
||||
|
"your mother almost died, but it's alright", you think.
"what other conclusions are there?"
you never finished reading voltaire
simultaneously,
one is on a table addressing a large abscess,
while the other's wondering what's happening,
carefully hiding from possible reality in drink,
and being found by phone calls, in anxiety
|
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3. |
baby (feat. two cats)
04:46
|
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|
poor little paper left abandoned in the rain -
it's drenched ink eye displaying shame
where once lay a calculated display
poor back roads, left devoured by their potholes -
no money in the budget to remedy
what god "chose" for them
aren't we all:
crumbling wall facade revealers?
stumbling on duct tape deceivers?
calling upon someone else to heal us?
crawling on down into the coffin, eager?
poor little baby left abandoned in the rain
redo - take two for the pain
who's in the tank shooting youth in the planes?
truth in their claims that there's sleuths in their ranks,
whom choose to taste juice from the veins of the slain
move a few troops to boost face with the state
cruise through trouble, safe in dangerous place
nude, sans stubble, with cantankerous face
|
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4. |
lover, you virtual
03:44
|
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|
all my friend's skeletons are made of cables -
their faces replaced with pixellated grins and repeated speech
give me a script!
i find humanity
or what you call reality
a melancholy pursuit, so
in my room i can escape
into digital truths
abysmal glow,
when did you make yr entrance?
with eyelids low,
i lack in my defenses
give me a script!
i find humanity
or what you call reality
a melancholy pursuit, so
in my room i can escape
into digital truths
|
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5. |
au revoir
01:48
|
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|
au revoir to you all
oh, i'm afraid to say
we're going away again
au revoir to you all
|
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hailey & the black trash Grand Rapids, Michigan
a genre hopping multi-instrumentalist, hailey aims for an exegesis soaked in synthetic swirls, delivered in harmony with glitched-out guitars and analog bass booms. h.'s blend of electronica, hip-hop, and musique concrète, typically recorded on a bedroom mattress, is guaranteed to make you either scratch your head or begin to bob it. ... more
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