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bruised and battered

dead geoff on December 17, 2011 20:08

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    synths, cherries, whiskey bottles,
    spliffs sperrys, chillin ... models
    ya all washy, washed out, bleached, beseech dg to treat beats with pitched down speech
    creep. lurk. eat vegetables and dirt.
    bruised and battered fish get fried. it don't hurt/ful
    full moon over avenue, you see me in purple.
    you see we be on drugs, so all faces be mirthful
    hurtful. handful of rainbows and love
    if you ain't worth your pepper, go and salt yourself slug
    out of touch. in offices i get stuck in scotch tape without the tape too much
    of a bad thing is good on a wednesday the sequel of a blues day
    important unimportant people doin things a new way
    who paid who 2 serenade of soliloquy 4 you in the ministry i 8 facts like pac man
    iRap man like an apple program for the rhythmically handicapped
    man... im vocal.
    not minimal. not vegan. or religious.
    legit with anatomy. no clue what hip is!
    no one to swig with.
    i be soul witness to german existence.
    gifted like gift cards.
    hopeful like wishes.


    2 . 0

    its crystal for nomads, flow sad like dry creeks,
    never settle for less, sip sedatives with high geeks
    treats. galore. backpackasnacks green apples baconofwild boar(edom)
    dumb smile within cheeks indented like a jester
    the jokes all jew, enemies get friend/ly fire
    illuminates a mug = my face,
    drunk in himself -&rt; on top shelf,
    see shellfish in space.
    embrace kind company
    noble. no bullshit. at nobu. sashimi.
    in belly. believe me.
    im stronger in vocab.
    my dad's my fuckin homey.
    frontin like im nothing, phony shades phase sun rays,
    blazed these days,
    no chase for these dames,
    im fuckin with these saw waves.
    im fuckin with these saw waves.
    focusing on the upswing,
    not living livid,
    ingesting fungus,
    scarletts vivid,
    pigeons flying,
    air filled with dread.
    i pay it no mind,
    got debt in my head,
    no rest in my bed.
    just bittersweet memories,
    im cutting out sugar,
    future don't seem better - see
    nothing in a mirror,
    no longer my judge.
    programmed inside,
    from a lobster above.


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