1. |
Ghost Stories
01:13
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Last week, I forcefully awoke from a dead sleep
Fighting off my pillows and thrashing in my bed sheets
I felt an apparition jump my body, take my breath away
Several days later, and I’ve been afraid to hit the hay
Maybe it’s the tv, my wifey watching ghost stories
Maybe it was GT, tryna hit me with a cold warning
Slow mornings rolling like a fog upon the coastline
Smoke pouring in killing canaries in the coal mine
The whole time has been a an uneventful blur
I’m on my “told ya so” but don’t assassinate the messenger
My temperature is rising, like a last dab hit
Cough a couple times, damn, is that that shit
I mask it all by lol-ing while doom dwelling
They selling me magic beans in cellophane packaging
I’m quelling my jealousy for people’s rocking nonchalantly
My swan’s grace is really just me folding, origami
Omnipresent stressing, in my shoulders, got me hunching
That Ignorance is bliss, them folks will live to be a hundred
My stomach is bowlines, pizza bagels, and butterflies
Now let me help this spirit cross on to the otherside
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2. |
Plum Fruit Roll-Ups
01:21
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Heat a couple pounds of plums we gathered from the orchard
Add thirty squeezes of the honey copped from round the corner
Couple tablespoons of lemon juice, cinnamon to taste
Mix it all together, spin it dizzy til it mates
Rip a slab of parchment, and line your favorite baking sheet
Spread the plum elixir even, take the time to make it neat
Throw it in the oven at 175 degrees
Let it sit in there for a whole good night of sleep
And when you crawl from the wrong edge of the bed
Remove your tasty snack, relax and let it rest
Maybe an hour later, you can snip it with some kitchen sheers
Roll it up and store it ‘for your family makes it disappear
It doesn’t save me money, it takes a lot of time
But it ain’t about the seconds ticking or the dollar signs
It’s all about the tree to belly trip, self-sustaining
So every time I eat one I end up celebrating
I make my own fruit roll ups
Wait. Hold up?
You make your own fruit roll ups?
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3. |
Hoodie Season
01:35
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The waning harvest is dressed with the fleece of first frost
And I’m flummoxed in the foreground contemplating my worst loss
The world's been throwing loops, but I’ve sitting on them curve balls
Forest full of burnt logs, my avatar been turned off
Invigorated by the chilly air sweeping over me
Make me want scribble out some somber teenage poetry
Like back in early aughts when I was spitting under streetlights
Way before I spent my free time sucked into a device
Before I was a symbol and rock of responsibility
I love the role but my home girl think it’s killing me
I guess that there’s a weight to every little piece you pick up
A tension for the turmoil, a squeeze in each enigma
The combination of that cocktail completes the sigma
But somebody gotta do it to defeat the queens and bishops
Sick of being sick of it, I’m sick of what I hear and see
Sick of sitting idly, so my duties have been steering me
Dress for the job you want, I need something with some drip
Something blocking out the chaos but shows that I’m with the shits
Something innocuous and cozy, protective and preparative
Shit, I know just what I should wear for this
I don’t get ready cause I stay ready (x8)
It’s hoodie season
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4. |
Doctor's Office
00:59
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Bout that time of year for my trip to the doctors office
The diagnostic possibilities have got me nauseous
I imagine idyllic lakes with crawdads on the shore line
My first blood pressure reading’s high, lets try this one more time
Just relax, think of something soothing
I’m deep breathing with my eyes closed, what you think I’m doing
A decade ago, I showed up here for a random visit
And we discovered a cancer sickness, sorry if I’m antsy with it
When all is done, the tests and readings are conclusive
“We think it’s in your head” shit, a tumor, man, I knew it
No, You’re fine, take ya vitamins, then rest and let the stress clear
Good looking out, Doc, let’s run it back next year
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5. |
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They say ya boy wouldn’t hurt a fly and speak it like an insult
I let the critters roam, man, them creatures is my kinfolk
I told myself that while stirring chicken tacos
I’ve prolly got exceptions to a lot of different mottos
Bravo, bravo, captain of a mini-ship inside a
Bottle, bottle, stuff the belly so that I don’t feel so
Hollow, hollow, going guano watching all the bots
Squabble, squabble, it might be worse than I can cobble
But better than I imagine, what’s that say about all the thoughts
That I’m having, Couldn’t put a pause on the passions
Something about the laws of attraction
Might be yapping but I’m backing a cause
Without a need for an audience to clap and applaud
They like, “your music’s all heart strings and daffodils, dawg”
Yeah, I know, and the mother fucking rapping is raw
Saw a crayon colored kool-aid stained sky this morning
At this point I’d welcome some paint drying boredom
Been faking my importance, my endorphins thank me for it
It gets me out the front door so I can pay the mortgage
On the fortress, sure looks pretty in the midas hour
Autumn aura on point like the Eiffel Tower
Pause in it, find that lost rhythm
Kinda got it all clicking like a Geiger counter
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6. |
Dirt Roads
01:47
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These them dirt roads that Hank Willy prolly dreamed about
And “at your own risk” scenic route, that weeds the teams of people out
Spotty service, cell inactive, ain’t no Google access
I’m much too well adapted, tried to zoom in on the atlas
Spread my fingers over sections absent any markers
The gap from here to home and us to them is getting larger
Referencing brochures that we gathered from the parlour
Hang a left at the lonely oak, then a couple miles farther
Are there any water bodies that I can dip my feet into
Preferably where we can watch the nimbus clouds play peekaboo
Mountainous terrains with wildflowers you can lead me through
Say my name like Beetlejuice, I’ll follow til my feet are bruised
Ain’t no greedy Scrooge, but I scrape the skrilla to the pay the bills
Hard for me to take a chill, schedule til the day is filled
Sucks the life from me, til I’m machine with straining will
Need to be reminded so we’re winding towards the Painted Hills
Footprints in the fossil dust, ignoring what the signs say
These heathens make you irate, got you looking at them sideways
A million of years of physics to create this sacred fixture
Ruined in an instant just so folks can take a picture
So we dip, cussing curses at this god forsaken gene pool
South bound through French Glen and merging with the Steens Loop
I was Artax down, Atreyu stranded before Falcor saved
Now I’m floating up at Wild Horse Lake
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7. |
Missy (Missandei)
00:55
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A final farewell to Missy Missandei
Your contributions stretched way beyond eggs
Your presence catalyzed a new burgeoning love
And all you asked for in return was some worms and some grub
Survivor of a least 3 coyote attacks
And a young pup, through all the carnage you remained untouched
Kept it clucking and then went about your business
Had to build a fence so we could keep you out the spinach
It’s been a fun five, but it flew like an albatross
Crawl like a sloth, ain’t it funny how that happens, ya’ll?
I never would thunk on it the day we met
That I’d be crying over one of our chickens we laid to rest
When all is said and done, I hope we have at least 100
To keep the feasts abundant and to measure passing time
Like’s she the spring of ‘33, their a pair from ‘50
And it’ll feel like only yesterday that we had gotten Missy
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Claud Six Portland, Oregon
Average Rapper/ Mediocre Producer from Wisconsin living in Oregon making songs about how the supernatural is normal and the
ordinary is magical.
Member of Jellyfish Brigade, Hives Inquiry Squad, Shut-ins and the Colony, Lukulele Slim, R4PC4MP, and BCxLD.
... more
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