Jakprogresso - Botch lyrics
[Jakprogresso - Botch lyrics]
Yo life sucks, gypsy moths out my stomach
My life has 30 percent of
Life, it lacks arms
Strings and a few buttons
I commit suicide at 65 percent
Fuck it the kids will love it i'm disgusted
Art at the present is only
Self contained construction about which
There is no more to be said of it
I drew mud slick
Drop of blue tremor linked to the
Ground by a magnetized gaze
At dusk, snow over peaks of a summit
Cotton wool-like
In my narcon encrusted blood pumps it takes
The page when I cut it
Catching inks with pots and buckets
Beneath root flower and stone
I group a coven
I lurk in fire damps and coal pit's to
Canoe out the origins of your pungent
Vein weeping at the focal point
Where your guts sit
I diffuse elation and whatever sunlit
What is rugged
This cuprous fertilize metal rusted
I post up a collection of my life's work in a
Gallery to make it easy for
You to pass judgment
My tongue drip, low-tide polluted bay water
Salt spraying aerial like seagulls spit
Eyes upon fisher, duckbill gullet
My happiness is a mask under it
I generate misery to sulk in
Brilliant depression
Ascended to music like Scott Walker sullen
Slow and sluggish i kick Suffolks
Oil spill tanker boat tugging
Diluted water propulsion before punch ins
The crowd nailed me to a cross
I am emotional numbness
Nocturnal vampiric dust drift
In a dim lit cafe, this beating it downer
Writing to the ludes tank
Punch rap's balloon face
I figure evolution before I lose face
Stone carving a new slate
Digging is a mutate
And carry my two hemispheres in a suitcase
I told watch the nerves
Like a paper knife endive in the noose frame
Me and this game as a
Razor blade in a fruitcake
They're all poets, writers, diplomats
And dress makers trying to move brakes
I kill future art with ease
Shit I'm on causes black
Suited narcs to creep
I drop cellular metals and of cryptograms
Hysterical paranoia starts to seep
Rush surges of melting face images
Under the bark of trees
I litter state parks with
Crystal meth shard debris
I'm sulked in depression with a pad
The artist weeps
Dead tired but off the charts asleep
Spider crawl filthy cerebral saliva
Wash brain's harness leash
My life has 30 percent of
Life, it lacks arms
Strings and a few buttons
I commit suicide at 65 percent
Fuck it the kids will love it i'm disgusted
Art at the present is only
Self contained construction about which
There is no more to be said of it
I drew mud slick
Drop of blue tremor linked to the
Ground by a magnetized gaze
At dusk, snow over peaks of a summit
Cotton wool-like
In my narcon encrusted blood pumps it takes
The page when I cut it
Catching inks with pots and buckets
Beneath root flower and stone
I group a coven
I lurk in fire damps and coal pit's to
Canoe out the origins of your pungent
Vein weeping at the focal point
Where your guts sit
I diffuse elation and whatever sunlit
What is rugged
This cuprous fertilize metal rusted
I post up a collection of my life's work in a
Gallery to make it easy for
You to pass judgment
My tongue drip, low-tide polluted bay water
Salt spraying aerial like seagulls spit
Eyes upon fisher, duckbill gullet
My happiness is a mask under it
I generate misery to sulk in
Brilliant depression
Ascended to music like Scott Walker sullen
Slow and sluggish i kick Suffolks
Oil spill tanker boat tugging
Diluted water propulsion before punch ins
The crowd nailed me to a cross
I am emotional numbness
Nocturnal vampiric dust drift
In a dim lit cafe, this beating it downer
Writing to the ludes tank
Punch rap's balloon face
I figure evolution before I lose face
Stone carving a new slate
Digging is a mutate
And carry my two hemispheres in a suitcase
I told watch the nerves
Like a paper knife endive in the noose frame
Me and this game as a
Razor blade in a fruitcake
They're all poets, writers, diplomats
And dress makers trying to move brakes
I kill future art with ease
Shit I'm on causes black
Suited narcs to creep
I drop cellular metals and of cryptograms
Hysterical paranoia starts to seep
Rush surges of melting face images
Under the bark of trees
I litter state parks with
Crystal meth shard debris
I'm sulked in depression with a pad
The artist weeps
Dead tired but off the charts asleep
Spider crawl filthy cerebral saliva
Wash brain's harness leash