Evidently I can’t get enough
Of the thought of the smell of ginger ale
The taste though?
I can take or leave it.
A swan picture on the wall again
And I cannot believe it.
I didn’t fall into the well as much as I jumped in.
And I’m redder in the face than the truck that’s coming to rescue me.
Hardcore kids breaking bodies
When I get home I’m gonna replicate it.
A perfect duplication of the most fucked up parts inside me.
It’s a constant fight.
I never don’t give myself a fright.
My gloves are white
So you can see the blood clearly
Or at least I can.
But I am not so much a champion
Just champion-ish
Lower than the lowest lightweight
Ultimately, just a smidgen.
I have cloudy rationale
Wet algae all around
Pull me out of the water once
And surely I’ll just flop around
So I suppose I’m just more smitten with skin that’s been thoroughly lived in.
Is that a problem?
Probably, yeah.
I think it’s a given.
Erudite chamber pop that hearkens back to the elegant and experimental production of the 1960s, swinging from melancholia to playfulness. Bandcamp New & Notable May 13, 2016