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lirik lagu swordplay & pierre the motionless - waterproof camera

when i was a child
i found a polaroid of an unholy ghost coasting on a magic carpet over mary magdalene’s baby trapped in a tar pit
crawling his way out awful limbs snapping in half like the saplings of apple trees
smacking bees back to see what they say
what more could i possibly say?
i’ve learned a lot more in this lifetime than i can relay
through thick cables stretched across the floor of an ocean
i’ve noticed nothing but feedback in that delay
motionless, i take permanent vacation
i’m staying at rock bottom. i got a solid concentration
of ultra magma like data flow ready for your translation
but i’m forever in the midst of attempting to transmit the last bits of undamaged information
maybe i’m a madman with a muddy mind
and i’ve been melting and i’m motorized by my yerba matés on mondays
and all the bad days that i happened to spend in a daze
when a kitchen manager can manage to walk in to a walk-in and blaze
but actually i’m in a hazmat and i’m haphazardly hacking my way back to happiness
hazardous material up in my veins
radioactive rain on your parade and the campaign ends in agony
i’m an advocate of altered adverts that add dirt on to the capitalist tapestry
i flirt with tragedy in a belated alert message to the m-sses broadcasting cr-ss syntax
and with a gl-ss of gravity, it cracks into your hands over your head
melting plastic, snaps and then laughingly sways
i’m renegade and grenades, lost and loose lipped, full of serenades
i get my t–th chipped. helicopter mouth propeller blades
on my way down, on my way down, on my way down, on my way
my head must be some disposable camera
with a flash that cannot be relied on in the dark
please come close
i can only see things that are about three to five feet in front of me now and i can barely make out your outline
time a collage
take a picture and scan it
little dots connect but are hard to see
a little light blinking
an entire planet perhaps
or another scratch on the lens
i’m tired of thinking
fill me in fill me in
i spend time with time spinning on spindles of twine lines swindling me of my winnings
swimming next to a napping light gone dim in the sky
i got a slingshot pointed at grey clouds
i’m doing backstroke looking at em yelling die! die! die!
before i p-ss out i p-ss pastels to daltonians
fixated on a pixilated black and white tv nickelodeon broadcast
i p-ss slow to them
i’m on the road again
watching the galaxy at the exact moment in which it implodes again
a footnote in existence always
i’m but a light bulb in its hallways
an ac unit in boycott of the dog days
on a window sill
i sit still and try to behave
gazing into weathered pages
melting tigers into b-tter like murakami
but that’s not me
i don’t have a wrist watch or tamagotchi
i don’t make money off of my writing i make origami
paper airplanes and the beginnings of a makeshift bonfire
i’m sweating calmly and with ornaments on my skin
send me away upon your flotation devices
all i got is this raft packed with a weaponized virus. no supply kit
i dream of aviation nightly
i might wind up in your flight path and crash into your astral kites but it’s unlikely
like wing development. try me
i’m signed into the mother synapse
half of me wired to the myelin and misaligned. i’m backfiring
find me a little island with miles of my own asylum
so i stay smiling on a fish hook
all i need now is a waterproof camera

- lirik lagu swordplay pierre the motionless

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