1. |
Quack
03:56
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Dappled light gives you the pallid cast of a smallpox victim or a bottomless hole. Star spattered bladder and the filth: it does not matter. Buyer and seller are both deceased.
Oh! gay old sensorium, softer than dandelion.
You talk about your pain in terms of a robbery, as if all God’s gay providences were your own rightful property. So you take it all away, by right and by title. My booty, my booty, hereby demised to the state.
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2. |
Dungeon Days
00:57
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Low, lower than dungeon days, singing, over and over into the ceiling. Thing, thing of my love thing here, breathing, doubling onto and concealing me.
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3. |
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Low, lower than dungeon days, singing over and over into the ceiling. Low, lower than dungeons, dig, digging over and over against the meaning.
Big enough to pull over everything—
Low, lower than dungeon days, singing over and over into the ceiling. Thing, thing of my love thing here, breathing, doubling onto, and concealing me.
I’ll never show you my real body!
Big enough to pull over everything, skin enough to hide over everything.
Today is a double denim day and things will never be the same.
The mystery of the real body—
Nice anemones here, kiss my neck and hold back sea snakes of fear.
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4. |
A Letter from Bean
04:25
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I’ll never show you my real body. Baby, I’m sorry.
(The mystery of the real body)
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5. |
Dung
07:24
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Oh, everything makes him miserable, and I don’t know what to do about it. Everything that I try fails hard. There’s no way out.
Kunst—I wish I could spend all day just looking at Kunst
Oh, everything makes him miserable, and I don’t know what to do about it. Everything that I try fails hard. There’s no way out.
There’s no way out.
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