letras.top
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de s6- music for plants (ruderalis) - jak tripper

Loading...

wow, yeah.. you know what i do (tripper sh-t) chemical wizardry

(i’m gonna tell you a story of the most exciting trip i ever took.)

yo, intellectual stone from the primus hermetic
circulate a minus on that vegetable stone
playing alchemy, panting out the trees, i creep like edible dough
i vaporize that soul soaked spirit, mercury tar and fractionist
two fists balled up like psychedelic cactuses
i’ll punch open your chakras and pour psychoactive reactants in
addict brims get split from the ends
get rid of my flesh in to wolves clothes like nikolas schreck
i transcend reptilian godhood into insects
off the air moisture like alkaline salt extraction
that dissolves into liquid in sets
on the seventh we study temperament stringents and hex
place a gl-ss jar in a cupboard
alcohol poured, sort oil tinctures, filter the reds
the bloom pop, drop two in the go
whole room box purple cubes of blue in the go
spit with acrylic text
two dozen blue nitrous balloons with the hoes
rooms getting slow
next winter i’ll pull the moon down in the snow
you puff trees?
i’ll blow your brains out to make more room for the smoke
leave you in the woods for so long foliage grew through your clothes

“if one could think so hard, what would happen? you’d die.”

dismember hands
or forearms like syrian theft and brand your chest
with lucifer’s stars coded in hexagrams
i’m revolting like riki-oh’s warden
burning scotch pine
rock alive as obsidian encased in nephilim unearthed after rock slides
you get cut fast, cut slashed at mach-5
with a razor from a broken mach 5
my body count like dead bodies of whales that wash up on sh-r- and block tides
i’ll put you in a box in the sky, like a boxed kite
i’m not right
waving arms in a vest like a crossing guard by a stop sign
i’ll push your wig lop-side
i talk about glock 9s
not to toy
i’m just a paranoid anarchist who hates handcuffs and cop rides
my knife act stuck up, it’s a sn-b
it’ll leave you washed dry, then cut you off like a poshed wife

(now your majesty, what is my name? “at first she asked: is your name tom?” nope. “is it d-ck?” noo. “is it by chance..jak tripper [laughing]) [an excerpt from rumplestiltskin]

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS

Loading...