1. |
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My brother's in a state of rural dislocation
was dead to me last year but now waits like dictation
and all of his triumphs are now dead links
the colour in his face now drained into the sink
In a pink and white tenement surrounded by the howls
of hookers and crackheads wearing eyeliner and scowls
he smokes another Stuyvo while
perched at his knees
is his latest amusement who purrs in Taiwanese
I dropped in on my way back from the mountain to the coast
for reasons unbeknownst to me (i guess i need him the most)
Though he carries heat and throws daggers with his tongue,
there's no one else to see through; no cause for recognition
We weathered many battles some were lost most were disasters
and we took it to the city only spurred on by their laughter
and the valley's hung head charges into Saturday's roth
kamikaze bulls with korsakoffs
I stumble through the streets i used to stagger through and safe
in the knowledge of my genius one day reaping redemption
but these are dry razors ripping hard against the skin
the novelty of sobriety once fresh now worn thin
Too old to die young and too young to admit
that these trance prayers were unanswered despite the levitation
and the crows arc through the cold wind and the jacaranda blooms
sewn to past revolts and disconnected in the rooms
And the capital arrangement sinks it's talons into space
son's indoctrinated by weak lobed embrace
genuflect in the transfer and desserts of dopamine
he's getting brainwashed while i'm deep in dream
And the goddess once lightning bolt now a fading heiroglyph
the scent of turkish perfume now a long forgotten gift
Say a trance prayer for ego and aggression
black and white approaches for iridescent passion
I need to see my brother no one else understands
the past monsoons my brain and cuts off both our hands
Odes to revolution now lost in the flood
cobwebbed CD-Rs gleam mournfully in mud
And the sky is holographic and highly pixelated
empathy's a soft sword and knaves are celebrated
brother are you listening to my final song
we locked it in the crosshairs
tell me where did we go wrong
there's a little village down south of ocean shores
I'm locking up the showroom
barricading the doors
say a trance prayer that one day we'll transcend
these pastoral rope veins and be gods in the end
Brother, can you hear me
the past never forgets
where you're fleeing from and where the sun always sets
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2. |
Hey Bobby
06:18
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