Snake Walk Demo

by Snake Walk

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released October 31, 2014

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Snake Walk Santa Rosa, California

Verdant loopery.
Anti-pop architecture.
Socially-unaware danceability.
Phat harmonies.
Lyrical flights of fancy.
Vapid, fame-seeking meaninglessness.

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Track Name: Bed and Breakfast
Former lover
From a time of younger impressions,
Would we still be friends
If I hadn’t had the Amazon
At the theatre convention?
She was tougher
And that was the point of contention
That lady started the mess,
But I was still the dirty man with his hand
On the wrong lady’s chest

Former lover
From a time of silent resentment,
Would we still be friends
If I hadn’t stuck my work of fiction
Into your birthday present?
We discovered
All the bits of skin that were pleasant
But there was no romance;
I was just a dirty kid with his hand
Down the wrong lady’s pants

At the bed and breakfast
It’s cold in the fireplace
Stone through stained-glass
And ghosts in the pillowcases

Keeping the secret safe

Former lover
From a difficult time, I was wishin’
That we could still be friends
But I could never seem to fit
Into those pants you were stitchin’
You’re no lover
And your pale sea-legs were itchin’
And though I hoped for the best
I will never be the man who got you
Out of that polka-dot dress

At the bed and breakfast
It’s cold in the fireplace
Stone through stained-glass
And ghosts in the pillowcases

Keeping the secret safe

Mycelium, I’ve had enough
Cover us up in your shroud
Mycelium, I’m over it now
Return us to the ground
Track Name: Cheap Cream
(How did I get here?)

Someone stuck in need of help
Could scream and screech for assistance
I'd get up to fix myself some
Cream cheese and biscuits
And hope,
Pouring cheap cream in peach tea
That I'll choke
On a smoke
Or the last splash of cheap cream
To the back of my throat

(How do I get home?)

If you think you can pilot this pile of shit
Down the Styx, give a kick,
A cadaverous punt
We will sink the corpses of Captain and Corporal
Then Monday have drinks and a scavenger hunt
One day under the noon rays of sun
On the sand we will gather for leisure and lunch
To gather together
A bunch of gull feathers
And bottles and books
In our brown leather trunk.
Track Name: Rain Gallery
Laying down in your black bed of curling tongues
Whispering “If-only”s in my damp head
If I was younger
What would I have done?

Blots in the sky now. I’ll find while shifting furniture
Snakes on the nightstand, in drawers
And curled around the bannister

Blots in the sky now, Blots
And I’m dissatisfied
Blots in the sky now, Blots
Now aim this cannon high

Blots in the sky, I’m dissatisfied
Now aim this cannon high
Track Name: Fresh Toffee Apples
Conflagration
Water falling over the bedside
With your arms bare above your head, I
Feel like a child in a pre-tied bow tie

Drenched and entrenched in a blood-splatter-pattern
Wish I was proner to hypergraphia
Though sometimes it leaves me in intimate tatters
The stoner who notes every viper he sees
Is destined for Waxman-Geschwind;
Tangential, circumstantial speech—
An eventual end within reach

Consultation
I believe this may be semi-serious:
When lighting strikes the base of my spine
I’m deeper in pieces, in reefs in my mind

Drenched and entrenched in a blood-splatter-pattern
Wish I was proner to hypergraphia
Though sometimes it leaves me in intimate tatters
The stoner who notes every viper he sees
Is destined for Waxman-Geschwind;
Tangential, circumstantial speech—
An eventual end within reach

I see a coiled-up cobra disguised as a rope
Clean under the dust with green eyes to the scope
Set out to sunder us, hunters encroach
Suppose the snake's blunderbuss exploded our hopes
Would I lie dead, doubtful I'll pull it, or cope;
Rise, head full of you and mouth full of bullets?

NOPE.

…It's tough but it's just
That I'd have to work hard for this us, right?
That's what it deserves — It occurred like a blur
And absurdly quick; I feel dirty and slick!
Like a poacher approaching an African bird
To pillage its plumage and brilliantine bill, yeah
You're beautiful, bright-eyed and brilliant-er still
"O, you and your B's!" I'll go on my knees
And swear you're a rare bird indeed. Please,

Go easy - I do believe we're doing it right
I've got the will to thrill you by my skill with a quill all night
And gettin' back in my slacks, I left us time for a song
'Cause I can get brash fast, but I don't last long
Bedded in a shed of old guitars and speakers,
Fretting in my head under the stars
Do I wake 'em all with squeaks when I shake myself to sleep??
And dream of thee retrieving me in thy new car!

From this ink pot
You can drive me far
We can think thoughts
Wrap me in scarves,
But we talk soft
So we have to work hard
In our songs I can tell what loud yellers we are.
Track Name: For Lulu, A Shiv To The Gut
(She wipes it away with lace)
(Covers with shades her face)

Don’t trip
Don’t squirm
Or roast, or get hotter
Just grip the wheel firmly and coast through the water

Alone, sits a lady like me
In a bungalow-coffee-house-bakery
Aglow with eccentricity
And a nose that gives up her ethnicity
Lulu, as her name would be
Reaches a thin hand into her bag;
Produces a pad and two pens, red and black
In the farthest booth on the left in the back
This is where she gets her work done, in a cubicle
This is where she’d burst into song in a musical

Corduroy pants are her business slacks
A comfy jumper - That’s the way she likes it best,
But looks better in a dress than in a sweater-vest
Argyle patter stretched across her chest. And check it:
Double Damn Ds, as a matter of fact;
No doubt the female me would be stacked
—On the real though, she’s real lanky and flat
And tall in high-tops and a small knit cap.
She fell for a chap with unmapped hair
And a beautiful laugh - It’s his curse
Yes, he’s struggled his life, had to put up a sheet of ice
And when it got worse, had to take girls’ lives.
He’s the kind of killer who prepares a home cooked meal
So he doesn’t have to hide the knives
He zjooshes your wine with a couteau to your spine
Or to your throat, as he chops the chives

Zut alors! He’s a Cordon-Bleu-Saboteur!
And in the slums with the bums, hitting weed with ennui,
Look at her. Sacrebleu! From the top of your tower
A spyglass to your eye, as high-class spies might wear —
But what the hell? Are you unaware of the mademoiselle, mon frère?
Sie ist ein sehr, sehr optimistische Mädchen, mein herr
She get her romance from France, but no discretion from the Axis
Asking serious questions in impressions of accents
Differing her dialect — Never sits on one
And like the quill of Will, her syllable fall tripping from the tongue
Except names she don’t get; She forgets most you taught her
Teeters between the stay-clean and the slaughter
Folks give a toast to her talking-point fodder
She grips the wheel firmly and coasts through the water.

Don’t trip
Don’t squirm
Or roast, or get hotter
Just grip the wheel firmly and coast through the water

I won’t say I’ll never get hurt again
But I’m not gonna say that I’m not gonna flirt again:
As long as I last on the land —with a rash on my hand
And my lady abandoning me in a rocket—
I’ll stand by my band with a hand on my grand gland
A black and red pen in my pocket.
My locket is locked full of pics of her
And my socket’d twist for a fix of her
And in spite of the dames I stick flags in
I cry at the sight o that damn station wagon
Christ!

But I wipe it away with lace
Cover with shades my face, okay

Dry and loc’d, I will repair
Take a toke and pull up a chair
I’ll give you notes on stroking your dote’s hair
Emote through the smoke and take it from there
But if’n ya audit like rock, with a dead stare
You’re gonna hurt her a lot when you get scared
‘Cause you’re easily scared ‘cause your easel is bare
You’re a polka-dot smock with a tear

See, for Lulu, a shiv to the gut could mean much
A month on the crutch, and a week or two asking no one to lunch;
Falls asleep in food, gets in weepy moods alone in her room on her phone on Youtube—
Damn dude.
I’d pretty much have to say that you pretty much put her in a pretty damn bad way, dude.
Man. Woo.

Don’t trip
Don’t squirm
Or roast, or get hotter
Just grip the wheel firmly and coast through the water