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letra de untrustworthy landscapes (incomplete recording) - wc-drs

hook:
to change your perception of where you’re living
pluck off a b-tterfly’s wings
splice apart and put them in a time machine
and reverse engineer, earth’s axis
would you believe me if i had a recording
of a tree timbering in a forest
eavesdropped on some crazies, whispering about it
then tell you to not trust your surroundings?

verse 1:
data input of your senses, don’t even make a ching of sense
like when coppers shoot you, for having an empty wallet
light fixtures in the core, textin’ signals to your cortex
to be real, the process of reasoning is unhinged
as it reels you to feel, like you’re a simulated
simian, late and born yesterday on repeat, not a gain
no gains gained, the long hand, starts spinning
past 11, reset b-tton hits, serendipity and continuum
interloping within the sands of time’s, hourgl-ss
radiowaves with no directed point of sound origin
sensations sent, even not touching, bristles of your limbs
motions swing like a pendulum, splitting your self
in halves of doppelgangers, losing track of
balancing the beam, a running man’s proprioception
disoriented like an oriental smacking you upside
your head, with a ruler stick, calling ya stupid
for no absolute reason, fortune cookie, fed up
with being force fed, placebo bullsh-t
if you were on welfare, you’d still say you’re fairly well
nonstop riding on ferris wheels, in wishing well at fairs
some ferris bueller bore, fare well to your imagination
floating in non-local oceans filled with melatonin
bipedal meat bags, crawling out of carnation cave systems
walking in places, only to lay in gaia’s v-g-n-l coffin
strange, she snips the cord, we feel cradled in death’s embrace
would the universe, still be here, after we’re perishing?

(hook)

[verse 2]
when i bring those arguments up front
i make fools run in circles, with their conjectures
until all their muddy points, run off as slippery slopes
falling down the pretentious cliffs of ignorance
where everything that works backwards, thus is felt as bliss
but when the rocks of reality hits, they remain as ignoramuses
numbskulls, drowning in the solemn seas of forgetfulness
impact, dissipating waves of crashed memories, erode away….
more pathological than emotional diseases, so watch your step
as you criss-cross my path, or you’ll get christened in bloodbaths
i have no sympathy, for simp-p-ssy -ss p-ssies like a
baby’s mother who leaves her own infant to die in frigid winds
to keep busting open them crackpipes between her legs
these bottles ain’t for formulas they’re for mula
ingesting that chemical substance, 4 bundles of mulan
addicted, both lips are stuck close to that d-ck, meanwhile
baby daddy mortifies her with diction, spoken out his d-ckhead
yet his name wasn’t d-ck, though the way it rhymed with pr-ck
should’ve been enough indication, since the dude was richard
richer and hardheaded on both poles of the extremities
left his b-tch, sucking up and stuffed her head, in every orifice
head of household, like a lighthouse, yet there was no light found
nor to be seen in hindsight, isolating under caves, underground
similar to how hades landlocked persephone, all winter round

(hook)

bridge:
don’t be deceived thinking “dey seen me!”
lines of grooves in the woods, start scary smilin’
running from blurry visions, you solace in cabins
next moment a wildman, roasts you on campfires while
singing looney tunes, next time don’t ask for map directions

(whistling interlude)

outro:
baboons, always find security in the unsafest of locations
sliding on banana peels, yet they still backtrack
convinced enough by urban legends, to trep-ss
traversing into uncharted terrain through foggy
boundaries of untrustworthy landscapes

- wc drs

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