Fresh Toffee Apples

from by Snake Walk

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lyrics

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.

credits

from Snake Walk Demo, released October 31, 2014

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about

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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