Paroles Saturn missiles Aesop Rock

Saturn missiles

Step in the lawn, I keep the foot, peep
In the pot go 6 degrees of cooked geese
Boiling, blitz the beach of mushed peas
Over 10 meat hooks with a blister each
I’m all pincer, fever-y hoodie on, hoodie off
Sweat through his E.T. sheets to the worry dolls
Never met a quite storm
That didn’t grow into a choir of colliding horns
That go click click clack, in territorial syntax
Sitting on the porch with his lids pinned back
Pinball wiz in a thimble of sins
I’m a symbol of whimsy abridged, kiss me I’m dead
Nursing a mystery Dayquil
Led Zep staring daggers down page mill
How prey tell do he sit pretty
When the ol’ 1 2 unglue in a tizzy
Please hold for the don’t play dull boy
Click, I am not a page or a pull toy
Came in the door and the floor is lava
Killjoy if your core more Normal Rockwell
Born home sick for an invisible address
Bat shit, bumble and bat around catnip
One black heart katamari massive
Packed in a fat category 5 rat nest
Nose on his sleeve, holes in his inner peace
Robot phone like a tentacle of flippancy
I hate you, hate you more
No I hate you infinity, and Pangaea break into smithereens
Interlude presto change-o
If it move too quick, oh whey oh
Right brain go white train Ramo
Moustache any old Monet, “no!”

Merrily merrily merrily merrily
In a cobweb tomb on a hotbed of heresy
Frog men schooled by the god Ed Emberly
Pull dog sleds and exhume Dead Kennedys
Bent, moth into kerosene awful
A caution to straw men lost on vaudeville
A-morally mixing business with 144 dixie whistlers
Lawn chair, strong man twisted whiskers
Nascar bic in his missing fingers
Outcast from a system of kiss-the-ring-ers
Are you privy to the misadventures
It’s electric
Meeting in the middle of the street
With a lethally modified piccolo pete
There is admittedly an incredible mystique
To meddling in the reason a city won’t sleep
48 strings of 12, that ring ring ring
Whiz bang, jingle bells
And melt bootleg G.I. Joes to black taffy
Classic, fire in the hole backdrafting
Fold wild life out of wolf pack wrapping
Full moon, bad knee, wool hat, caffeine
TNT plunger in all caps, ACME
Blast off half of the whole damn map screen
No sling no spear
I’m a patchwork of 86’d springs and gears
Who been stung by an unlinked pinky swear
During his what-in-the-fuck-was-
I-thinking years
Hm, maybe an awkward phase
Like his acne and sophomore fade
Played, calling all out-of-work action figures
It was death by saturn missiles