1. |
Hard Milk
03:12
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Sisyphus task
I gotta pick up the flask
A lot of things on my back
I'm out of questions to ask
But my vicarious death
Is a precarious mask
So when I run out of breath
That won't be me in the casket
What's it about
You'll never figure it out
You've got to open the door
To this enlightening doubt
But now your careless mistake
Has brought this permanent drought
You rotten timorous snake
You wretched slippery lout
So you think you're a real hotshot, eh?
Think you're a real tough guy, well okay.
I am the end of this predicament
Nothingness succinctly
With his great big hands
He will turn me inside out
And you'll see why
They call me Qlondorp the Great
Nothing you say can reverse the machinery
Nothing we do will leave something to mend
Nobody cares that you're changing the scenery
Nothing is all that you are in the end
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2. |
Strong Eggs
02:55
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I disintegrate, I let it grow
But in fact this act lacks impact, I turn it back
'Cause you see, I'm the rare one: I look the part
And I will not discuss this, I'm tired of that sound
When the morning comes, break the wall-sky. It's just for show
Still intact, but I am hopeful, I see it crack
When he says "Be the good one", I make it start
And I will not discuss, the past has been unwound
Well, what does that old pattern mean
When the sides are switched up
Well, don't you think the difference
Is what makes it all happen
The comfort you're enjoying
May well become your prison
'Cause once you see the size of it
You'll be feeling differently, cowboy
Incredible
I can see it now
No distractions
Stop!
Incredible
I can see it now
Your reaction
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3. |
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Well, here we are again. When that sweet complacency finds me, it's aroma fills the air, and I swear I've got a vision to spare. In that swarm of inhuman shadow, I am given several clues; each one of them distinct and yet simultaneously indecipherable. I go forwards, rotting backwards. In the darkness I have no name, so call me "Quickboy". Call me "A Real Slow End". Call me "Dictionary". Call me "Turkey Dinner". Because, you see... Or, do you see? Can you read me? Each one of those pictures grittier and foggier than the last, well, I look over them fast and then I move one, back to the multitude. They look so sullen and crude, those dilapidated depictions of breakfast food. Oh, yeaaaah. Decaying bacon! Deformed hash browns! Pancakes ravaged by the torrents of time! Okay well, I hear someone laugh offscreen, and I know I am not alone.
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4. |
Sloopy Norp-Dorps
02:42
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I want to put it in my mouth!
Those sloopy norp-dorps
Go "blorp!" off the fork
And I say "Oh my god! I'm so impressed!
A salad with italian dressing!"
I'd die for some ice cream
Pie, fries, and pizza slices
Crispy chips with drippy dip
And blissful fizz, I need a sip
Oh yeah!
I want to put it in my mouth!
Those slippy nip-dips
Go flip off the stick
And I say "Oh my god! I'm at a loss
Could you pass me that spicy sauce?"
I ache for some bacon
Cake, steak, and frosted flakes
When will I taste that hearty slop
A burger with an egg on top
Oh yeah!
I want to put it in my mouth!
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5. |
Spider Milk
03:13
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As you step inside
To the place where it resides
Hear the ghost confide:
"Get them when their hands are tied!"
And although I've lied
Shamed my name, and stained my pride
Well, at least I tried
Get them when their hands are tied
Objectified,
The specimen beneath the slide
For all that they've denied
Get them when their hands are tied
And the blood has dried
At least that's what the voice implied
As it boldly cried:
"Get them when their hands are tied"
Once your souls been fried
And seasoned with formaldehyde
You'll be glad you died
Get them when their hands are tied
Spider milk with a side of flies
The lunchtime treat we all despise
Come and open wide
They'll get you when your hands are tied
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Grandpa Bay Recordings Chicago, Illinois
grandpa bay archive - december 2013 through may 2017 - chicago, il
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