The Tugboat Complex Lyrics - Aesop Rock

Oh my God 

They've got angels sweatin' like Helots 

workin' their little halos to the bone combing them deserts 

my figure eight knotted 

lifeline defined traffic 

the way my schoolin' end-less-ly defined every day 

one exquisite fitted crisis rivets an octagon of red 

to the ceiling above my bed 

it's not a conversation piece, like public spectacles 

unleashed more of a clue 

so when I wake up to the rains I'll be one step ahead of you 

I slide like Kodakrome(?) 

wrote a poem for every planet 

tracked their mileage from the sun in an envelope 

licked it, stamped it 

got eight thank yous in the mail, but nine planets means there's one left 

only the earth would thank me later with a breath taking sunset 

(man, I'm just a bum) 

zip that waterfall around your skeleton 

tell it to boil 

loyalties, the shovel in the soil 

dig it, I split my lip kissing the winter 

nursed the blister in the sun 

strung a hammock between spring and where the willows turn to blood 

might of worked 

sip a little, litter it, love it 

without big beetles trying to sell him sunflower seeds by the bucket 

might of, tugboat for the boxcutter above those ashes 

without hot air balloons floatin' their four passenger baskets 

and I'm asking you 

to let a captive lacerate a caption 

splash out massive 

apolster plastic glasses with famine patches 

i-dentify all saints linked around the fountain's warmth 

and for a second taste of pain when removing that crown of thorns 

?,?,?, born hostile, pacifist huddled in subtle masochist 

stamp the blame on? 

my fire escape overlooks ghost town market place 

artists bought out passes 

then fast themselves to the target's face 

you're killin' me 

if I had a hammer, I'd build a city on stilts 

so my feet would stay dry when God's wine glass tilts 

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if I had a shovel, I'd dig a hole in the dirt 

and I'll be hiding when his drunken stupor lands upon earth 

and if your little wing is broken 

I'll see the poacher in hell 

I can't afford another? in a cell 

my carousel mimics the interests of a thousand leaking spickets 

and a colony of graziers raised to justify the grimace 

(and yes I read the treaty) 

I prescribe the remedy plus the premises 

my pin cushion, my limbs pushin' the knitting needle 

evils, idle, peddle past the greeting 

where the sleepers feed the cycles 

stop, watch the eagles board the little engine that could not 

ghost in a shell 

and it fell in my lap 

passin', postin' the bail but the guard has misplaced the key ring (that's 

wonderful) 

I lead a flee to blaze exact songs directly into the village 

power supply burning the bridge between the magnet and my eye 

now how many cadavers satisfy a mad man? 

and how many crooked samaritans turn plesantville to bad land? 

I can count my own dusty nickels with you laughing 

about you'll turn my poor ass ebony and navy with cane lashings 

(well, you're right) 

grip your pointed stick, incite your riot 

I'll sell your worth in a bottle at profit, explain my bias 

atomic box cult, downward spiral rapidly 

cast to hell with hate mail, forged Christ's autograph 

laughed itself, drastic catastrophe 

biting my lip 

skin and bones, stringent 

bingin' on rancid baits 

mummified well inside a muddy New York minute 

was it 

your remnants my smoke rings have cocooned prior to fading? 

well, it wasn't conscious spite but it might have been that 

Photos 

I am not your friend anymore 

my arrow head dissertation(?) 

when narrow bed sleepers occupy the basement 

and I am not your friend anymore 

come the dawning of cerulean your pity blend that whispers in the wind 

man, if it were only that simple 

I'd add a guilt frame to my core 

I'd board myself inside my room to trace the wilting contour 

one petal falls to the rug, she loves me not 

town crier lugging a boom box with spirit plugs 

and a red radio flyer 

tied to irony like twenty burning igloos with a sailors knot 

fiddler crabs build sandcastles while high tide off azalea crops 

in the icicle field I portray, cats get antsy 

and ask 'why if every light is dark do I continue dancing?' 

why if every light is dark do I continue dancing? 

why if every light is dark do I continue dancing? 

why if every light is dark do I continue dancing? 

well if it ain't finally a question that's worth answering 

I boogie for the raindrops 

for the purity, the anger 

for my childhood recollections 

for the comic book in my heart 

the mocked intentions 

the clarity, passion, seclusion 

those cool summer nights 

for the mark emerging across the street selling me stog's at half price 

for the mights, the maybes, the nauseating pitfall 

my girl, my friends 

for the fact my window opens towards a brick wall 

for the three legged dog I saw dragged on a leash 

for the homeless man who walks my block in rainstorms with plastic bags on 

his feet 

see I throw away the tenders over one shoulder 

and walk across broken glass 

through every wicked world to kiss tomorrow's morning 

not for nothing 

you'll drown in a pool of your crooked morals 

whispering 'maybe Aesop Rock was on to something' 

maybe, no promises