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Comedy of the Filthbeast

by Lt Headtrip

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1.
Intro 00:57
2.
My Monster 02:30
I work third shift. First gear worn wet. Translucent intruder fresh. The neutered, improved bereft. Berettas made of mesh for the troops. Lead for the suits whose proof’s on they breath when they loose. Oops, I’m in cahoots with the sinners, loose cannons and animalistic tragedy protagonists and coups. Don’t have me sick Banana on your crew. He’ll handle you like two turntables and a sample that’s been used. My only sleeping aid is drinking. Face a bottle, chase the toddler to its sinking grave and bring me what I’ve conjured. And I’m honored to sponsor my awful, audible involvement with a hogtied sow but I don’t wanna talk right now. I got a gang of dopplegängers game face, and not to name names but I’m puttin’ a bounty on they remains. It goes: Headtrip, Domewrecker, Filthbeast, Patrick. That’s my imagination. Have at it. There ain’t no magical bastard laughing at us behind the fabric. There’s only my projection of my manic. As holy as the sex life of your pastor. I’m bulldozing the death rights of a man who built his home on what he’s damaged and his scandals. My habits got the best of me so long ago that I no longer know if I’m whole. But who knows shit? I don’t. I’m growing in hopes that my ex dies alone. Somebody cried, “flow.” Another sobbed innards and his brothers got sicker while our mother played dinner and she trudged through the winter. And my lover’s with a bitch, but I don’t covet what’s in her ‘cause she’s dumb enough to fuck him and she’ll come to me when it hits her. Who’s your great friend you can count on when you’re beaten? Who’s that sadist that’ll splay your ass to pieces? Please, it’s not in our agreement. Keep the fuck out of my habitat. You don’t want me in your dreams, bitch. And the world will know the monster I’ve grown by my alias, and I’m just its doctor, its failure. The world will know the monster I’ve grown by my alias, and I’m just its doctor, I’ve failed us. The world will know the monster I’ve grown by my alias, and I’m just its doctor, its failure. Or the globe won’t notice what I’ve offered, and honestly I think they’re better off without my monster.
3.
Neck Right 03:15
My head don't fit on my neck. I can't think straight, let alone distinguish from my dreamscapes. Ghost ridin’ the whip with three ring wraiths. Send a winky face and ask you how the sphincter taste. Immigrate to inner space and live inside my grimmer days. Cringin’, thinkin’ ‘bout my Christian phase. Kiss a naked chiquita and feel her tongue disintegrate. Demon eighty year old lady decaying in her place. I’m dressin’ in the emperor's hand me down bathroom gown, pants and crown. I’m fancy now. Gettin’ free food from hindus? Don't have a cow. Ladies. Grab a towel. I’m ‘bout to make your panties drown. Get jurassic on the mattress makin’ raptor sounds. Young Domewrecker, pecker in your pastor's mouth. The trip's gone bad! The acid's brown! (The fuck you rappin’ ‘bout?) I don't know. I’m tappin’ out. Fuck existence. I’ll try harder next time. Something’s missing and it’s something I should let die. Fuck ambition. Someone else can get mine. Something's in me and it's something I should let die Fuck cognition. I’ll try in my next life. Something's missing and it's something I should let die. My head don’t connect to my neck right. I blew at being a baby. I missed my first birthday. The pussy that took my virginity was turn based. Now she gettin’ overdraft fees at my sperm bank. Never trust magicians or mermaids. Never take your sister to third base, even if she wants to help raise you in the worst way. I ain't shook, just a little stir crazy. Short fuse, hot nerves, too much personal space lately. Invade me. Get the surgical tape ready. There's rolls of it in the basement. Don't hold me to my statements. My notebook's full of dangerous corrosive quotations and I’m prone to go total apeshit when it's open. This ulcer's an escape route for the worm I’m cultivating and it's woefully mistaken if it thinks it's ever going home safely. I’m only gonna say this once, so pay attention. The name's Lieutenant Headtrip. Feel pain at my discretion. Something’s missing and it’s something I should let die. Fuck ambition. Someone else can get mine. Something's in me and it's something I should let die. Fuck cognition. I’ll try in my next life. Something's missing and it's something I should let die. My head don’t connect to my neck right.
4.
Lt Headtrip ’93 Tempo. Two door ford with mad dents. Rollin’ through Kent on Doom instrumentals. Reson twistin’ up KB from kemp, flowin’ endless. Cassette hole hot from the sesh. Pullin’ up to the Enflos’. Eyes got the red glow. Drops don’t make a difference but we can pretend, yo. Rear ended the bed of a young professional bumpin’ Pac at a stop light. He didn’t ask for a cent though. ’89 Hatchback. Dad got it cheap. Tappin’ ass with the seats flat on Powdermill, discrete. Driver’s didn’t crack to let a draft passed. Had to smoke the beadies out the passenger window or in the street. Battery clamps loose. Got a boost every week on my lunch break. Poppin’ the clutch in a Honda’s butter cake. Almost smashed the cab. Colin fuckin’ judo chopped the turn signal shaft off and we still laugh about that. ’88 Sunbird, metallic blue. Mad comfortable but not enough room for the crew. Phat Company’s huge. Mad Hatter and Dr. Mars puffin’ cherry Black & Milds until they lungs burnt through. Scooped up Bug and flew to Pitt on a whim and tagged a residential block when we were done with our food. The whip spewed plumes and we pulled up to a creek to pour some water on the hood to keep it’s underguts cool. What fools. ’87 Sentra with a crack in the exhaust so I had to give it gas when I would stop. Sara copped The Chronic at a yard sale. I popped it in the deck. Didn’t eject it ’til the whole fuckin’ mechanism flopped. She purred like a god damn panther with a mishap turbine in its innards. You could hear me ‘round the block. Tried to cop a tux to be in Gregory’s wedding and when it dried up and broke down I left it in the garage at the mall. (Yo, Trip, why they trust you with a whip?) Shit, I don’t know yo. They like your boy mobile. (Really, Tripgawd, why they trust you with a whip?) Shit, I can’t say. I got my mans towed today. (Yo, Trip, why they trust you with a whip?) Shit, I don’t know yo. They like ya boy mobile. (Never ever trust Headtrip with a whip.) Duncecap ’03 Corolla. My navy escape pod. Crashed it drivin’ to my delivery day job. Sex in the driver’s seat, stoned in traffic. Recorded a dozen fuckin’ frees with Patrick. Sister’s hand-me-down. Left me the pepper spray. I learned that shit burns. Breathed it in yesterday. Only snoozed at the wheel once. More time boozed up peeing in a cup. Jules Baxter 2000 Tiberon. You found it in the lawn. One day the Hundai get run down and shitted on. But right now we blunt cruisin’ and bump music. Buzzed, drunk and fucked up from us boozin’. Stuff crews in and take casino trips. Enough loosin’, we makin’ c-notes, bitch. The seats don’t tip, so you can’t recline, but we don’t give a shit ‘cause the amps are fine. Gruff Lion Eight deuce Ford. Fairmont. Ride it ’til the wheels fall off. I don’t care boss. ‘Cause in the mornin’ when I’m grufflin’ dumps, I turn the timing belt and remind myself it was a hundred bucks. Convert the DC to AC. Plug in computer speaks that glowed when they played beats. Then drove from VT to Hempstead. Pull up my bredren. Headed to the block. That’s when the starter shit fan. A stripped gear head. But my boss Bob was there with a plan. He took a part from a boat, put it in the Ford and it drove, and now I’m convinced this car floats. Nope.
5.
Lt Headtrip The kind of hat you wanna catch despite the path that it stretches on the climate’s last breath. The kind of cap that needs a head and minds its master and a cracked skull cold without its fairly weathered friend. It never mends and when the dragon makes his nest beside the mess he hides which then ignites the rapture pays his debts. He’s been begging for an axe to grind but hatchets are expensive so he fashions him some leverage. Too bad he’s passive at his best. There’s a draft that makes the happiest of men resort to madness in a bender as it passes through their skin. They should have patched the broken fence to keep the grass from ever entering their vision and puttin' em in an insecure position. Listen, it’s not that daddy needs a reason, it’s just sad to see your seed resort to masking its being. We had a tacit understanding of the agreement, and that’s why you’re still breathing. The laughter isn’t laughter, they’re screaming. Concede. Googie ‘Cause when I fall in dreams, I see my life flash right before my eyes. And I don’t call or scream, ‘cause ignorance is bliss. I’m better off bein’ blind. And really all it means it that I’m hopin’ when I’m floatin’ on this ocean I’ll be coastin’ ’til I reach the shore, and even if I don’t, still gotta get up and go. Lt Headtrip The kind of end that's more a question than a resolution resting in an archetypal lesson. The kind of sex that leaves you empty and regretful the investigation led to what resembled a confession. Without a nemesis he's stagnant and content and out of practice and receptive to the malice that’s been festering. There’s flowers in the bed, but the stench that plagued his senses was a necessary dread. He’s lost without an enemy. There’s pretension in the deadliest depression and a weapon in the chest of every trepid adolescent, so the semblance of a blessing ain’t enough to keep em pleasant and productive. We’re gonna need some tension and a supplement. Fuck it. I’m not his father or his keeper Imma wash my bleeding palms and let him lock away his secrets. He can call me when he's lost the key and needs me. I got a copy in the box next to my grief for whom he might return to being. I believe. Googie That when I fall in dreams, I see my life flash right before my eyes. And I don’t call or scream, ‘cause ignorance is bliss. I’m better off bein’ blind. And really all it means it that I’m hopin’ when I’m floatin’ on this ocean I’ll be coastin’ ’til I reach the shore, and even if I don’t, still gotta get up and go.
6.
Treats 04:19
I’m a rescue. All necessary info stored in the neck tubes. I’m yours to make you feel as if you remember how to to be gentle. I won't be going back to visit. You know how old friends do, like, "I missed you bad, so fuck you and the better place you were sent to," like, "I get you're happy but you don't understand what we been through since you left,” and I' d be all "fuck you too then!” Anywho, I'm your pet now, so get down to my level with some wet food, a bed, allow me to nest and await my impending doom. Your precious pet projection canvas here to shit into your hands and eat your left out breakfast sandwich. Your bestie you can't text when you're out traveling the planet. And what’s some property damage if i’m still enamored upon your landing? If you never rescued me I' d still hunt for my food, and if you never took my genitals I' d still fuck when I choose, but what an excuse to be absolutely worthless like a substance abusing husband whose habits you've come to terms with. I love you ‘cause you feed me. You love me ‘cause I'm needy. You try to leave me and I' ll kill you while you're sleeping. I love you ‘cause you feed me. You love me ‘cause I'm needy. You're lucky neither one of us is bleeding. It's four o’clock. Time for my treats. I only feel alive when I eat. Order up! Four o’clock. Time for my treats.   It's four o’clock. Time for my treats. I only feel alive when I eat. Order up! Four o’clock. Time for my treats. I don’t know a lot but damn I can feast. One man's garbage, another animals harvest. Sorry bout the carpet but you left some Friskies on that carcass. I attract then try attacking small varmints. Buy a bat, friend. Imma nap while these larceners target our apartment and charge in bombarding. I'm only guarding my grub. I'm starving. Cup of meat, bowl of water, couple dog treats. Oh yeah, I ate ya homework and ya car keys. (Come here, boy. Com here!) The fuck you bark at me? Pardon but I'm busy in the fridge getting heart disease. Cottage cheese farts don’t bother me. Oh, it’s cute the way i’m slobbering on top of your lasagna? Sweet. Touch me where I like it. My body is your job. I’ll hump when i’m excited, won't apologize at all. (It’s not polite to sodomize an officer of the law.) Yeah and it was not polite to confiscate my balls, am I wrong? I love you ‘cause you feed me. You love me ‘cause I'm needy. You try to leave me and I' ll kill you while you're sleeping. I love you ‘cause you feed me. You love me ‘cause I'm needy. You're lucky neither one of us is bleeding. It's four o’clock. Time for my treats. I only feel alive when I eat. Order up! Four o’clock. Time for my treats.   It's four o’clock. Time for my treats. I only feel alive when I eat. Order up! Four o’clock. Time for my treats. And I’m just tryin’ to find a broad that’s in heat. This place is a prison. Man's best domesticated. I'm shamelessly licking your scabs after I wet my anus. I'm chained to your wrist but you're handling my defecation. That isn't my name and I never said this was okay. Is it me or my reflection? An honest question. You shed light on the subject but I think that you’re projecting. I shed white tufts of fluff onto your sweater again. You’re sticking your neck out for the less endowed so what the fuck are you protecting? Whose livestock? Brand infused. My property. Can the gruel, grab, consume, puke. In the beginning we brought the food, we dropped the stool, saw some poon and had to scoop. I lost my cool. It's on you for not training me right. Shoulda locked me in my cage and gave me bacon to fight. I'm intelligent now. Hell of a howl, dangerous bite. You missed treat time and now you're gonna pay with your life. Pass the baby, it's ripe.
7.
Jules Baxter It’s the Rubix Cube brains. It’s the jingo journalists. (Are the two you famous?) No, we're murderers. No one’s heard of us. Background beatings at sound meetings. Have the town’s leaving. Lt Headtrip I got the wordiest nervous tick in the whole damn county and I’m freaking out because there’s a bounty on my ass and I’m on the TV right now. We need to bounce before somebody sees me. I can’t stop shrieking! ‘Keep it down.’ Never since the devil thought me genius. Jules Baxter The Devil called me Jesus. I hear him talking now. Are we all believers? Did he deceive us? Treason. I’m my own fuckin’ god dude. Watch me cold cock a cop because I want to. Lt Headtrip There’s a bundle of broken bones in a sock and two mostly rotten haunches from your flock. Let me maul you. Your eyes remind me of the way your scull sounds when a saw chews through the soft layer while we provide you with a new ocular view. Jules Baxter Inhale, exhale. I’ve been in jail and left there, neck hair standing’ up. Demand the judge the chair. Hands are cuffed. Cell block Stanley Cup. What up? Lt Headtrip Chest bare. Neck covered in censors. Metal head wear. Test subject rambunctious and depressed only the dead care. I’d lead her to fresh air, but I forget how to get there. We’ve been locked in this atomic proof box since the Red Scare. Jules Baxter Get where you wanna go in life way before you hold a knife to your own throat and you hope to slice. Lt Headtrip And hardships and some condolences as trite as your whole collection of porcelain mice that you sold when you hired that lawyer who lied to a jury so you could go home to your nice little misconcieved notion that you’d always sleep tight. Jules Baxter Sheep countin’ the reasons he’s out, son. No snoozin’ from dope, booze and old Cubans. There’s no new thing. Simpsons did it. If a critic condemns, consistent mimic. Lt Headtrip Slip into the distance beyond the pixelated digits. Fidget with your vision until the lids have gone limp. Get a glimpse of your perspective without a connection to a screen. I hope you get buried alive tonight your dreams. Peace. Sleep rap.
8.
I left you somethin’ classy in the bathtub. Guess when she asked for the back rub she missed the brass knucks. Bare-ass using bear traps for hand cuffs and she's bound to rip her ass plug out if she stands up. Pop, I got the black lung from huffin’ all these ashes of rappers I sold a dub smothered in gas to. That's a fat blunt of fire, baby. Get lit. Act up. (What is this, cat nip?) Fuck, I thought you were mad drunk. I'm sipping Dracula's blood spittin’ back in the cup and passin’ it up after having too much. The captain of crunch, buryin’ halfwits in mud and takin’ snap shots to sell to last of the fuzz that pays cash for this stuff. Calamity's half brother, blastin’ nuts on the damage with a crash dummy's life-span. I’m holdin’ the planet for ransom. Fuck the demands, Imma throw another tantrum and some. I want snacks, bitch! There’s bagels in the cabinet in the pantry with the snatch lips. Imma chill in here and write the third draft of your epitaph with a rancid slab of ham on a canvas made of back skin. (Here you go.) Thanks Bambie but I didn't ask for the napkins. Dancin’ to Johnny Cash in hand-me-down pajamas with Danzig and Samurai Banana gettin’ blasted. Black out for the cameras, kids. The fans love our antics, but if Glenn starts actin batshit, we’re puttin’ him back in his casket.   Father father, I’ve been seeking. I’ve been monitored and I’ve been reaching. I’ve been sought after while I was sleeping. Stop peeking.
 Father father, I’ve been seeking. I’ve been monitored and I’ve been reaching. I’ve been sought after while I was sleeping. So I chill with the kin of the grim reaper. Eat me.

 The word bank stake out scout, turd slangin’, fang-mouthed, out-and-about lookin’ for taint to chow down in a damp dank alley kind of a louse. The grimiest grouch. When in doubt, roam around the Vatican actin’ aroused. I’m satanic enough in my bowels to make my whole catholic family proud. Call an ambulance. You’re gonna need one after this. The annelid’s still ravenous. That might explain the sacrilege. My safe word comes with an asterisk. Adolescent soccer practice makes perverts violate their parole restrictions after being granted freedom quietly based on hope and blind compassion and a shortage of accommodations. Oh yeah, Mother Nature says get the fuck off her spaceship. Often hated and misunderstood as much the Islamic Nation. As misinterpreted as the Bible and the Koran's pages. As honest as a police officers racist obligations solemnly stated. Our population’s heresy is in its awkward stages.  

Father, father, I’ve been a patient, and I’ve been monitored since I was taken. I’ve been haunted by your indistinct faces ever since I’ve been off my medication.  
Father, father, I’ve been a patient. And I’ve been monitored since I was taken. I’ve been haunted by your indistinct faces ever since I’ve been off my medication. I’ve seen you before but I can’t place it.


9.
Wet Brain 02:35
Baby, I’m an alcoholic. I’ve thought about the classes but I’ve always been a passing student and I don’t know if I could handle it. My passions haunt me, too. I’m often aloof, coughin’ up mucous in the afternoon after promising you that I’d be off this shit soon. I talk an illusion, it’s true, but it’s honest. How the fuck can that be honest? And nah, I just brushed my teeth, I didn’t vomit. Sorry ‘bout how loud my fuckin’ jaw gets, too. But I’m positive you saw it all coming and you’re proud of me. You gotta be. I saw it on your face when you were out to eat. Before you ever mounted me. Before we did the shower scene. Before I fucked you raw in my room. (Can you close the window baby?) Nah, it’s too foggy in here. Have a blanket, I’m waiting for the toxin to clear. So be patient, and I know you hate that straw man feud, so Imma try and say on topic for you. Wet Brain Sorry, my head is getting soggy. Blunts to the lid after we tucked in the kids, wondering what we would give for the sun not to lift today. Copped the team caps, but then we knocked back the batch and went to campus empty handed after we tripped fuckin’ face. Remember? You never whispered ’til I caught you close to sleep and you let your cheeks and left hand do the speaking. Believe me, I would’ve filled your lips, but I was guilty and resistant and I loved how bad you wanted me when I put away my dick. Just the tip. It’s fine and dandy when you fancy on some candy, but enchantment doesn’t last and your insides are never full. Then for half of Ancient Banter I’m just chastising my own vanity and you can’t speak to your man because his eyes are always dull. But if you got me to stop chompin’ the filters off my Reds, maybe you could help me close this distillery in my head. Wet Brain Sorry, my head is getting soggy.
10.
She gets addiction from her dad’s side. He could spot a victim with  his bad eye. That’s if his stashed dried and he was out on his ass. Fancied himself the big cheese. Hash pipe. He tells the stories 'bout his past right. But doesn’t know that he’s the bad guy. Hell, he could sell a fisherman a land mine, make him pay double and convince him that it’s half price. He didn’t stick around passed five. Two decades later, they got family time. And now she writes him when she’s half-fried and wants him at her wedding with concessions and a cash prize.

 And who can blame her? They let the television raise her.

 And he’s about to pop like a three dollar watch. 
And he’s about to pop. Just watch.

 She gets her pretty from her mom’s side. Her grandpops cried when the dog died. He used to beat its bloody raw hide in the back yard while she watched with her jaw wide. He’d love to be a barfly. Couldn’t touch a drop so instead he hit his staunch wife. She never saw him sob twice, even when they learned that the desert left his daughter dry. Her grandmother was the strong type and lucky for them, ‘cause the bastard led a long life. And whether wrong or right she had pretty hard time hating him because he showed her love as small child. 

And who can blame her? They let the television raise her

. And he’s about to pop like a three dollar watch.
And he’s about to pop. Just watch.
11.
Day to Day 03:58
Sour stomach and no resources for hunger. Showered in sweat from the dehumidifiers deep in the bunker. Feverish slumber interrupted by a distinct, creeping discomfort. Grown boy weeping on a semen-encrusted cover with a last week’s laundry and a hand washed sheet buffer. He keeps telling himself it’s like this because he needs to suffer. Back in the summer of six denied applications for somewhere to sleep peacefully. These were the best days he could muster. Tug one weeping nut out onto his palm before he crawled upstairs to wade through the aluminum nest for fruit flies he constructed with three others. You’re only young once. Who the fuck cares if you remember? Who the fuck knows if you’ll ever truly recover? The cans go in the bags. The bags used to go into the trunk of the clunker but that stopped runnin’. 95 degrees. Feels like two hundred. The beverage center on Front Street smells like booze and money. MD 20/20 in exchange for the plunder.  Dumpster child. Wash the funk off in the crustiest tub his bare feet ever touched. Scared he’s gonna catch something. Fuck it. The water's colder than a warlock's cock lodged in the tundra. Every drop stings the sunburn. Heavy heart feels the punishment. Never consciously concerned about the cocktail of substances he funnels to the gut worm to help him stop worrying about who he's not putting his tongue in. If it hurts it's not up for discussion. No self worth but the kid got gumption. Still unemployed. Still disgruntled. Still takes joy in the wonder of chasing rabbits down tunnels. Rice, beans and a tamale goes for three bucks at select bodegas and beats the fuck out of payin’ the same for three McDoubles. Huntin’ for work until sundown, but nobody wants to hire a bum with mossy teeth and a couple seasons worth of stubble, and no one needs to sleep with a lush who can’t get it up without chuggin’ at least thirteen Buds. The xanies weaken the muscles. 

 “I know that I’ve been under, but whether I better myself or get drunker is up to me at this juncture. What are you, my mother?"
 “I know that I’ve been under, but whether I better myself or get drunker is up to me at this juncture. What are you, my mother? You don’t look like my mother” 

His lover traveled in bumper to bumper from Suffolk just to say how much she wants to remain with her significant other. He’d beg her to stay but it's too hot to cuddle and she's still with that fucker. Dark lord willing his days are numbered. They don’t hug. Sometimes he gets to touch her. He just shrugs while his innards are ripped asunder. One last memory before he finishes his liquid supper. Then back to the rumpus room to crash on a sick comforter.

 He had a hard day today. Day to day…

12.
Stone Palace 02:58
I ate my twin in the womb. Different taste, bigger appetite. Natural sacrifice. Now I'm homesick & marooned. Alone I can't navigate my path at night. I stuck my head in the oven for a breather and I huffed that gas down. Fuck if I ain’t pass out. I stuck my head in the oven for a fever and I changed my mind but I stayed inside. 

I’ve grown callous. Me in my stone palace.
With no outlets or throne to challenge.
I'm so callous. Me in my stone palace.
I’m not a coward, I'm withdrawn.
I’ve grown callous. Me in my stone palace.
With no outlets or throne to challenge.
I'm so callous. Me in my stone palace.
I’m throwin’ mallets at the walls. 

I fill my own chalice and it's on me if I happen to spill ounces upon gallons upon the ground of my home. I lost my balance. Let's see whose bones are the loudest. It’s time we ground another loaf. I’ll probably find my way when I denounce this fuckin’ oath. But I smell the blood of a coward and a poacher so for now I got a prowler to choke or drown in my paranoia. Self sufficient. Sufficiently selfish. I’m the freshest and the sickest and the eldest. I ate my twin sister in our second trimester and I doubt I’ll ever treat someone as delicate. Help.

 I’ve grown callous. Me in my stone palace.
With no outlets or throne to challenge.
I'm so callous. Me in my stone palace.
I’m not a coward, I'm withdrawn.
I’ve grown callous. Me in my stone palace.
With no outlets or throne to challenge.
I'm so callous. Me in my stone palace.
I’m throwin’ mallets at the walls.
13.
Hang Nails 03:50
I got your epidermis on all fours. Recruitin’ troops who spent their service in false wars. Lookin’ for some virgins to call whores. If you ain't fightin’ or fuckin’, what’s it worth havin’ balls for? I’ll rattle some rancid words I saw on a stall door in a rest stop for a guest spot and spit it like God’s lore and outdo every verse on the whole album and get the release indefinitely postponed. Come on, can you really call it porn if it’s soft core? Sprawled on the floor of a luxury suite in the Waldorf Astoria with a long sword and a dead office worker I used to call my lawyer. We both went too horse, but I ain’t drawn and quartered. How I am gonna appear in court represented by a pile of organs? We’re all docile or borderline obsessive compulsive and on meds so, therefore, docile, constipated, nauseous and suicidal but calm. You're a caged animal with a floppy dorsal or a snake handler who gets paid in the antidote for the poison your palms are absorbing. My ancestors paid bad men good money to have Jesus’ apostles tortured and eventually found it profitable to have their gospels printed and taught by sorcerers, while this modern demonic shaman’s corpse is worth more than the top resources from four continents or more. I guess that’s what I get for never following orders.

 I don’t read books, I read people. (You illiterate fuck!) Only crooks feel regal in a cop-state, prostate prodding, intruding fecal matters, cavity ravaging. No ass assumed equal. Rookie in the peephole, sleep in the lids. Looking at me there's teeth in my shit. What's it to you what I keep in my fridge? That ain't a problem all this bleach couldn't fix. (You're sleepwalking, Trip!) I make my own porn, enslave my own spawn, I fake my own orgasms. I create my own wars, I trained my own army, I am my own fascist. All women and karma kids to the panic room. You want the full Filthbeast? Couldn't handle him. You bumpin' Raw Dog? Take your time. Tripanation could save your life. Pain tastes nice for a change. I don't like to play safe. I microwave chainmaille. Name sake drivin' the snakes. I'll be high at my wake dining on hang nails. I write my own hate mail, alive in the flesh of my victimized rivals. Exist in morality's grey scale. Space-bound ape, fidgeting with dials. My veins pump piss and shit and wild bull cum. Who let the hell hound loose in the Doldrums? This old man he made me play grown up. He played knick knack on my scrotum. It takes a villain to hide the truth’s loopholes, and a chisel to lie on your tombstone. So, take your vitamins try to be beautiful you got the Filthbeast inside of you too, though. 

Get retarded. Slip this arsenic bar in your jar and sip. Chew the ice, eat the garnish, lick the glass, sniff the stardust, embark on a trip. I park my ship in the harbor of Styx and drown in my image. I'm a narcissist. I smoke partial spliffs and get hardly lit and lock all my windows and have violent fits. (My life is mad hard!) Not as hard as my dick. Buy your boner from your pharmacist. When I made my monster, I created an impostor and the eighth undocumented cardinal sin. Bleed for us or you ain't part of this you wanna start some shit? I'm gonna starve your infant. Die young come back and haunt its crib. we are the karma kids

credits

released June 27, 2017

Lt Headtrip
Comedy of the Filthbeast
Produced by Headtrip
Lyrics written and performed by Lt Headtrip unless otherwise noted
Scratches by Samurai Banana
Recorded by Samurai Banana and Headtrip at Karma Kids Studios, Karmastoria, NY
Mastered by Rob Paterson in the Rhombus, Stony Brook, NY
Artwork by Damian Rivera
Hand Lettering by Colin Williams
© 2017 we are the karma kids

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WATKK is an independent hip-hop label curating unapologetically unique music.

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