Compact disc in sleeve with original artwork by Initials B.R.
Also includes immediate download of 12-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.
ships out within 3 days
edition of 200
Purchasable with gift card
$5USD
lyrics
I let a nez perce burner strike first. Sentences leave them senseless.
MENSA tests meant to lambast the mixmast shred sails to mincemeat.
It’s mean. I end means where ends meet, so piqued to receive each
Going-out-of-business sale receipt for Fleet Feet sneaks that leak.
I’m a keep the returns that I earn in the week in my sheets
And believe that my sweet dreams turn profits when I turn pillows for my teeth.
It’s just wishful thinking. Stop blinking. Stop thinking.
Cut off my head from my neck, my hand would keep inking,
Fingertip quills to stitch quilts and cry for what milk’s spilt,
All set to handle my hilt with folks of that ilk.
It stands to reason I could stand to Reason. You set the traps
And I’ll start the bleeding. There are sharks to catch and catches in the readings.
If the tank teems, we’ll trade tanks for tees and bees for bees knees,
Cheese for the ABCs of trees leaves, off-cuffs for up-sleeves,
Find on the seas, the hills, and the keeps a place to leave these
“Fuck”s for a “beep” and sheep for the wolves.
The bait’s in the bleat.
I guess all depends on how space descends, reclined or set steep.
The times turn the lens and the best talk’s cheap and it ends in the street.
The times tend to keep the way space descends on end and set steep.
If you take offense, then let’s make amends when it ends in the street.