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letra de the crash - nick zazove

[verse 1]
soupy smirk i’m honored like seppuku to my collar
and a voodoo at the watchtower oozing out them dollars
the scholars rused the nozzle? more like equity for neophytes
sepulchral intestines and a death unlike the freedom fight
mea culpa equalizers, black box shields the ether
the ozone blocks the tragicomic rust from gridding seizures-
in a tetratonic solace- cue the features
i will not join the panic if the voices in the mind indict the speakers
the anacrusis sn-tchers staff the front lines and prosper
cleave the marianas welkin dealt in done madonnas
i will not dignify the land that chains me to my stanzas
yet still i fight these demons throned by upper-crusted phantoms
eidolon mafioso, nostradamus, solo no-show
alone with oafs who nose-goes their fates subject to volpone-
window dressers, stuff the top drawer with “opinions” better suited
for a royal flush, than sh-t upon my tux from roles in mud-blood
from roles in mud-blood… from roles in mud-blood…
every seizure hits me like the l between its crushed thumbs
chicago likes me better as a maniac, facts dissent
ice pick oedipus to genesis and back again
i fight god with syringes plucked from cornfields marked with endless cycles-
once a friend, always one repenting toward an empty sh-ll
i guess life was but that iron fist i coordinated dream-like
a marionette spelunking the cable box – with green lights!
you know that i’m not dripping off the canv-ss – what a precedent
streamliners with jagged edges strolling through my exodus
guess that i’m not cool enough to frogger with the fourth estate
anti-dwellers loitering the chorus scratch the sore embrace
as we mine the bunkers out the black market sewer mutant
pedigree, i slow dance for these padawans to rest in peace
that’s what it takes for two to django under siege
carpe diem! carp a dm’s flashback to the touch of eve
colored hands will squeeze unless you seize them, ask the trump machine
whose motor functions break down without booze, oil, and cash cow disease…
myopia embellishes the forefront
the soldiers armed with semi-auto dreams streamed from the warrants
on a dusty digital profile, shadowed in the blacklight
the difference between war and bleak existence blurs the line
between the ghetto and its merchandise, yes sir, i am baptized
the magpie crushed between one paradise will answer transcribed-
from a ferry to a man up down the stygian l-st capsized
and now surrounds aguirre splicing spearman with a gadfly
for future reference: postmodernist art protrudes the mind’s eye
through cupid’s rolodex infused with philters bit from prime time
every single story ever told rewrites existence
and every single morning i am choked in spite of expense
my life requires indent, not a caregiver’s surveillance
there’s plenty sp-ce to quarter ops and feed them at the cadence
(feed them at the motherf-cking cadence…
feed them at the cadence…)
if memory persisted zigging zags through the brick trainyard
i’d puff the voodoo teaching gremlins stickball with its safeguard
i’m not a social tragedy, but flirting with pariah
whose p-ssing merits privilege in the form of glib goliath
disrobed, it’s color schemes and cloaks beyond the bleak horizon
and inside, it’s choking up the intimacy’s silence
i don’t know where i’ve been or what i’m told will be the future-
for america, i just know i’m in love with my hysteria
spoilers: it’s the paradigm projected into fairy dust
i’m not afraid to die, i just want life to be the marriage clause
try to be a good person giving up his name to fill
the small government with stained empiricism, near to prison
nothing ever changes on the bottom rung, strung by
f-cking demagogues and other forms of arson on the kessel run

[the high 1]

shut up i’m on top of world: one two three i got the girl, i curl on the doctor’s fourth
and life is but a dream that unstoppably can not control my octave’s born
the troubleshoot is bust a load with needles through my mistletoes
and sheep that roam the holodeck like preachers on their tippy prose
who am i not to know- (i know that f-ck)

existence projects itself through multi-channeled bridges to ostensible ends
i carry freud’s movement through the fire and out toward zen
manifestly disestablished from the gridlock
why did i ask myself to exist?
everywhere i look is an opaque mirror obligated to reflect a distorted prejudice that i buy to destroy
if i kept it locked up in my chest, it’d either overflow or spontaneously combust
i technically did; this is pretentious
i am a shadow of my psyche, the thoughts i project, and the audience’s interpretation: a claque then repression
the second i realized that i’m caught between a clap and candor, i patch up my insecurities with a tourniquet and a sowing needle
i am an anthropomorphic american flag from chicago
i am an american flag from chicago
i am an american flag
i am from chicago

i’m fitting to jest, my riveting pivot collects, the inning at rest
ripping the test, sitting with crippling debt, love is the polar express
ode to the specs that fester my pupils and scruple to pledge, cupel of lead
bugle impressions of rootled groundhogs, sound off, found god in the fog: he was scr-w-ng a frog

[verse 2]

prince of darkness arson farcing brides and marking province
with a checkered flag, ripped from baron’s pockets, st-tched with shived colossus
rigid profits, the kingpin of unconscience
sips my dreams from bottle rockets lugging quarters out the automat
briar patch delinquent inking angels onto fourth walls
my wings could never pioneer those fortunes to a court call
so when the jury’s hung, i puppeteer a poet’s lost cause
enveloped by duality, lights out in this heaven, please
eyebrow of the elegy, die down in the phalanx
my larynx will identify with bingo at the cave’s length
tailing. echo chambers spangle plains of pots and pans
dead reversed from evolution’s prawny grasp of common man
call for revolution, strewn disdainfully in heckles
the allegory catawampus, wildfire spectacle
portions allocated to the denizens of xanadu
silver tongue plus golden gun makes war, a token avenue

[the high 2]

an ubermensch in manacles will gallivant atlantis
with a carousel’s kaleidoscopic easel spinning avarice
enamel calls for penetration, laureate a sanction
and enamoring the plexigl-ss- a “graceful” demonstration
so round up all the casques amontillado painted yellow
these catacombs, or “silk roads,” will serve to reign the skeletons
i drew out of the telesis to shimmy on the testament
these telamon trapezes tear the frameshift off their sedatives
my closet swarmed with ultraviolent peaceniks out realpolitik
once i am convinced the ark will crash, i’ll salvage rhetoric
to open up that mortuary parlor spinning rainbows
out of cutthroats that rot away their evil every brushstroke

- nick zazove

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