1. |
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And They Tell Me You Are Crooked And I Answer:
The long poem that is Chicago, the long lines of people in sparkling coats that stretch regal across Chicago, the Chicago river glorious backwards and through everything, how huge the buildings the gas-station poetry of Chicago.
Chicago where there are no clocks, the soft ground that splits when you put your foot down and is ankle deep, infinite trains, the length of Chicago surpasses the stars, everything is heavenward, there is no gravity in Chicago everything floats, and somewhere in the city, above the city, all those Chicago fiction rooftops.
It's always Christmas in Chicago, Chicago is the world's largest Christmas tree and everybody is an ornament and the buildings are angels and everything is for sale, everything you need on billboards advertised in Chicago and nobody frowns unless they're pretending. Everything that's said in Chicago is poetry.
Everything Chicago says is poetry, and all of the women are in Chicago too hip with boots and always in Chicago wearing at least five colors, Chicago women don't wear makeup their Chicago faces burned by disbelief because they know Chicago is impossible. Exhaust fumes dance for everybody and nobody bleeds in Chicago, the sky is always white like the ground sometimes you can't tell between them, the brake light poetry of Chicago.
Everything is always moving in Chicago, Chicago is a convenient highway, in Chicago sleep does not exist in Chicago Chicago is too beautiful Chicago to exist Chicago is a ghost, the only sign we have of the divine, Chicago is the last thing you see before you die Chicago is not home Chicago is where we will all be some day she is lost with short hair in Chicago majesty and I have had too much of Chicago, I am hungover from incandescent Chicago I will never go back to Chicago, I will never go back to Chicago all poetry is infected by the long poem that is Chicago.
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2. |
Aporkalypse Now
08:00
|
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Bathing in mud
Eating your shit
All can be bliss
This is the aporkalypse
|
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3. |
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When you see me
in the right mood.
You know that I
can get quite lewd.
Why'd you make those
faces honey.
Don't you know we
did it for the money.
I will tell you
One thing though now.
You will move your
feet and arms now.
Make the ground shake.
Make a small lake.
Drop a pound or
plop a small round.
Just Dance 'til you dook in your pants.
if you want to do what I do
Now here's some instructions for you.
[The rest]:
Dance 'til you dook in your pants now baby.
Dance 'til you nuke your parents.
|
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4. |
Corpse Generation (시신시대)
04:01
|
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A stranger comes to town
have you even seen his face
just wants to look around
stay low just in case
everyone in fear
I just don't know what to do
he steps out in the clear
but I trust you.
Everything I said and everything I did
Comes to this moment to defeat him.
I'm not in a hurry, I only have one worry.
How do you kill
the dead?
In my boots I'm shaking
he must be crazy
in my mind I'm thanking
his vision's gone hazy
the man who taught me how
he only has one gun
to live in the now
let's just run
So that's where our story ends.
The dead man has been shot.
He fell right down to his knees
and stood up with a grin.
This all might seem strange to you
but a dead man cannot die.
He lives on as a message
of the corpse generation.
|
||||
5. |
||||
I've got a friend
He's a mouse, He's a mouse
He lives in a hole
In my house In my house
I've got a friend
He's a mouse, He's a mouse
He lives in a hole
In my house In my house
My friend eats cheese
He reads lots of books
He gives my wife
Such dirty looks
My friend eats cheese
He reads lots of books
He gives my wife
Such dirty looks
I've got a friend
He's a mouse, He's a mouse
He lives in a hole
In my house In my house
I've got a friend
He's a mouse, He's a mouse
He lives in a hole
In my house In my house
The cheese grows mold
It's looking rather old
He hasn't been here
In about a year
My friend grows mold
He's looking rather old
It's been made clear
What I'm to fear
I've got a friend
He's a mouse, He's a mouse
He lives in a hole
In my house In my house
I had a friend
He was a mouse, He was a mouse
He lived in a hole
In my house In my house
The mold was me
It came to be
Regretfully
So painfully
The mold was he
All I can see
It's horribly
Revolting me
I had a friend
He was a mouse, He was a mouse
He lived in a hole
In my house In my house
My friend ate cheese
He read lots of books
He gave my wife
Such dirty looks
Just me alone
Wanting to moan
Just me alone
And Wanting to moan
I've got a gun
I've got a gun
Hey! Isn't this fun?
I've got a gun!
credits
|
||||
6. |
||||
7. |
||||
And They Tell Me You Are Crooked And I Answer:
The long poem that is Chicago, the long lines of people in sparkling coats that stretch regal across Chicago, the Chicago river glorious backwards and through everything, how huge the buildings the gas-station poetry of Chicago.
Chicago where there are no clocks, the soft ground that splits when you put your foot down and is ankle deep, infinite trains, the length of Chicago surpasses the stars, everything is heavenward, there is no gravity in Chicago everything floats, and somewhere in the city, above the city, all those Chicago fiction rooftops.
It's always Christmas in Chicago, Chicago is the world's largest Christmas tree and everybody is an ornament and the buildings are angels and everything is for sale, everything you need on billboards advertised in Chicago and nobody frowns unless they're pretending. Everything that's said in Chicago is poetry.
Everything Chicago says is poetry, and all of the women are in Chicago too hip with boots and always in Chicago wearing at least five colors, Chicago women don't wear makeup their Chicago faces burned by disbelief because they know Chicago is impossible. Exhaust fumes dance for everybody and nobody bleeds in Chicago, the sky is always white like the ground sometimes you can't tell between them, the brake light poetry of Chicago.
Everything is always moving in Chicago, Chicago is a convenient highway, in Chicago sleep does not exist in Chicago Chicago is too beautiful Chicago to exist Chicago is a ghost, the only sign we have of the divine, Chicago is the last thing you see before you die Chicago is not home Chicago is where we will all be some day she is lost with short hair in Chicago majesty and I have had too much of Chicago, I am hungover from incandescent Chicago I will never go back to Chicago, I will never go back to Chicago all poetry is infected by the long poem that is Chicago.
|
||||
8. |
untitled (deprivation)
15:24
|
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9. |
Nucleotide Chain Gang
04:39
|
|||
Lemme tell you a story
about four individuals I know
They been on a chain gang
for a real long time now
Stuck in a nuclear prison
tied to one another for eternity
Adenine and Guanine, the Purines
Thymine and Cytosine the Pyrimidines
always waitin for that m-train to pass on by.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Adenine with Thymine bound two times
Guanine with Cytosine bound three times
The Purines and Pyrimidines twisting along the track
persisting through time.
Blindly following a path laid by none.
They lie in wait for Polymerase complex
See the T box bend
The train's a'commin to break those bonds
Cap the 5 prime and splice those introns
So with the 3 prime tail
they set sail.
---------------------------------------
take it through the pore
that nuclear pore!
gonna make it home
down in the ribosome
pass it to the bay
with the transfer RNA
Gonna make those proteins
Start with methionine
------------------------------------
back inside the nucleus
a different scene approaches us
Transposable elements
though to be miscreants
Got no home
so they move around the genome
-------------------------------------------------------
They got at least three different gangs of transposons
DNA-Mediated with the short inverted repeats
Retrotransposons with their LTRs
And the rest hitch on lost promoters
The SINES and LINES ahead of me
Waiting for their turn in the race
--------------------------------------------------
Aeons of incarceration
Leading to wonderous things
they know not where they are going
Nor where they have been
Trapped by a blind warden
A force that can't be seen
It has no intentions
for anything
|
Not Jeremy Jones Corvallis, Oregon
Just a dude dudin' around with himself.
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