1. |
Backseat
02:22
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Stuck in the backseat, glass in my front teeth
Wake up to a cold sweat, wonder if I’m dead yet
Ditch crashing, off-road
Spun out of control
I would let you know, but I’m not there
Free falling again
Deep diving, no fins
I would let you in, but I’m too tired
Want to pull the trigger, still can’t feel my fingers
Waiting for s savior approving my behavior
Why do you always need an explanation
I keep dipping my toes in
Stuck in the backseat, glass in my front teeth
Wake up to a cold sweat, wonder if I’m dead yet
Take a hit, sugar spit
Craving attention, need a new injection
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2. |
Dirty Hands
02:55
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Think fast, have you earned the space
Whiplash, like born and raised
Outside or in the state
What’s a border, where’s the line
I feel hella fazed
Dry wall from a basket case
Champagne from better days
Black tie, am I losing faith
When the lights, they ignite
Can you feel the hate
Keep your dirty hands
Off my dividends
And don’t stare
Looking into my affairs
I’m clean, squeaky
Clogging the machine
A tweet: “Sun’s out, guns out”
Down to earth, did you feel the quake
Shuteye during air raids
Tight squint from the aftertaste
Tug of war when it comes to handshakes
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3. |
Gold
04:09
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Pocket full of gold
I let my hand dive in
I could sell it for soul
Or maybe I could buy some eyelids
Sleep it off until April
Sleep it off and possibly wake up
I left my gold on the table
As a decorative centerpiece
Isn’t it shiny
Isn’t it great the way it lays
My stomach is burning
As we approach the subway train
Standing in the doorway of competitive desire
Our fate is lingering and whispering
The telling tales of barbed wire
I can’t believe what I’m hearing
I can’t believe what I feel
I can’t believe what I’m seeing
Cause this is way too real
Confusion
You can find me in a hall of mirrors
Puffing out smoke
And while you drink to forget
You’ll forget that you’re broke
Collusion
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4. |
Fatberg
03:21
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Concrete instead of sheets
A little depletion, making ends meet
Have I shook hands and danced with the algorithm
Duct tape for my favorite decade
Flash floods from monday to wednesday
Struck twice, this pitcher's lightning
Fatberg, steady in the pipeline
First come first serve under the gaslight
Get your wet wipe, complimentary wet wipe
Penthouse, striking up big deals
Jumbo jets drowning in pig squeals
Get your wet wipe, complimentary wet wipe
Cancerous capital needs to circulate
Got me dancing around the potholes every day
All night and day
For my mothers and my sisters at the gate
For my daughters if the world doesn't blow away
Blow me away
A viral spawning
Ligaments yawning
So bloated, so foddered
Don't get up, don't bother
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5. |
Salt
02:52
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Nosebleed, it keeps on dripping
The sharks are famished, I keep swimming
Punchline, the gloves come off
The cough doesn't stop, orange light, red light
Pick up a face and I know where to hide
Shooting stars, I must've hit five
Now to the front of the line, because you've made it
Promised land, where the salt is Himalayan
Mind melt, where's my safe haven
Will I got to heaven with these pills that I am taking
Curbside, all thoughts aside, jaded
Gold crown, fireproof, now it's flaming
I need to take some time off
I need to take some time off
Skin too thin and the cracks start showing
Flew too close to the moon now I'm glowing
It keeps me warm this gut where I strut
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6. |
Wendigo
03:45
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Lay in my bed
Seconds, minutes, hours
After I clean the blood
dripping down my fingers
I feel misunderstood
Until the morning after
When it leaves me for good
No further complications
If you return tonight
Swallow me whole Wendigo
I won’t put up a fight
Swallow me whole Wendigo
Start tearing out my eyes
Swallow me whole Wendigo
Fresh in the afterlife
Swallow me whole Wendigo
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7. |
Backseat (Freestyle)
03:20
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Stuck in the backseat, glass in my front teeth
Wake up to a cold sweat, wonder if I’m dead yet
Ditch crashing, off-road
Spun out of control
I would let you know, but I’m not there
Free falling again
Deep diving, no fins
I would let you in, but I’m too tired
Want to pull the trigger, still can’t feel my fingers
Waiting for s savior approving my behavior
Why do you always need an explanation
I keep dipping my toes in
Stuck in the backseat, glass in my front teeth
Wake up to a cold sweat, wonder if I’m dead yet
Take a hit, sugar spit
Craving attention, need a new injection
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Fat Trout Trailer Park Brooklyn, New York
FAT TROUT TRAILER PARK is a post-punk response to modern life, where beyond the noise lies an incisive critique of contemporary society.
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