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Bo​ö​otstrapz

by Jonathan Wood Vincent

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1.
You buy yourself some guns and a full body bullet proof suit, A van filled with explosives hidden under cardboard boxes of fruit. And with a remote control device to command as you sit in a safe location You direct the van through the doors of the lobby of the central police station. A few thousand feet away, in a blue sedan, you try to work the detonator The cops are swarming, they use the stairs cause you've broken their elevator . The ripe fruits drip onto the wires and the bomb ticks but doesn't explode. And the cops eat the bananas as you drive away listening to the radio Where they talk about the dying dollar and the coming planetary ruin And the killing of everyone by all the people who don't know what they're doing. They say: All talk no action All talk no action Got a problem? Do something about it. Too many people taking Not enough leaving Not enough shaking Oh what have I done? Where am I now? I'm standing alone in a bathroom stall. My pants are down and my hands are small What have I done? Where will I go? Why don't I know? Why didn't I just stay home and watch myself on video You walk into a beauty salon, gathering all the women there in threes, You sort them by their hair color and and you buzz and dance like a honey bee. You take off your mask and drink some water, show them mercy and leave, The women all call you a fool, but you don't hear cause you're out on the street Then, realizing that you had shown them your face, you come back to kill them all, But your gun fails and your rifle recoils and the shot thuds through a wall . And then you stagger into a Bingo game at a tired retirement home. The caller drones out the letter numbers through a moldy microphone. You demand a sandwich from a sad young worker who makes no notice or fuss. And you upset the game but no one responds and so you eat and leave in disgust. And you go to the local bank and you ask them, "anybody wanna play funny?" You threaten you're gonna slit some throats and so the tellers give you all the money. Then you exchange the money for the fake cash you have stashed in a bag in your car. And in front of the bank workers, in a garbage can, you light the fake bag on fire "Your money means nothing! " you say. And you drive away with the fortune. On the radio they talk about you, but the station cracks with distortion And you nod your head And you nod your head And you nod your head and say: All talk no action All talk no action Got a problem? Do something about it. Too many people taking Not enough leaving Not enough shaking Oh what have I done? Where am I now? I'm standing alone in a bathroom stall. My pants are down and my hands are small What have I done? Where will I go? Why don't I know? Why didn't I just stay home and watch myself on video
2.
Your head climbs round on her neck side And slips into her ear, she saddles your back fits wheels within your folds plants grass and tree seeds inside your bowls. When your leg has grown so long she holds it on with tongs. pours water through your lungs, you get a new goo bun when she's gone unspun She's got the power of the bag, all the city bows in drag. She's like a hooked up swing set in the back that plays cymbals and drums real fast. And on her front stoop gate go boo birds up sticking out of plates with copper feather second hand hoop skirts and out of them all flow cool clothes for the poor, But ever since you smelled the soap roads you have a 14year old green garden hose in your hand and you like to make it twist and bend She's shoveling out shirts from your mouth, they're all tongue tied to the operating table pointing out your face's mess, you swallowed down your mouth apple bell with play mobile and unpopped babble, read out loud from a whole board of scrabble (Ab)She's a spider on a fly unzipped on your (B)phone placed gently on your back you yell at the (Eb)dog and cry for the door upset online she screams your name oh man they say when you have nothing more to give it's hard for a mother so hard for a mother maybe you have a secret brother or two or more summers here now you know she takes another year down in a war zone you got to sing slow sounds in the undertowns of Idaho, so you got a home I know, put it in oh oh I have a lot of yeah yeah..you know She's got the power of the bag, all the city bows in drag. She's like a hooked up swing set in the back that plays cymbals and drums real fast. And on her front stoop gate go boo birds up sticking out of plates with copper feather second hand hoop skirts and out of them all flow cool clothes for the poor, But ever since you smelled the soap roads you have a 14year old green garden hose in your hand and you like to make it twist And then you glance at her hand as she towels off the water on each finger a ring with a mirror to some slaughter. You've got no kites, nothing but a tutu, nothing for a fight, nothing you can do, but she's got the porns of all the big horn gurus and the manes of the horses and torques of the turn stools, and the machines of the future when the radioactive symbols tick like ancient hieroglyphics, you won't know how high the cliff is when it comes out to show, she dresses it up in nuclear donut. Cause she's got the power of the bag like I don't know how Among all the people she gets a perfect score She's got the power of the bag like I don't know Among all the people she gets a perfect score Yeah, she's got the power of the bag All the city bows in drag She's like a hooked up swing set in the back that plays cymbals and drums real fast. And on her front stoop gate go boo birds up sticking out of plates with copper feather second hand hoop skirts and out of them all flow cool clothes Yeah, she's got the power of the bag All the city bows in drag Everybody's gonna be real glad She's got the big old world up in her bag. It's a big old world up in her bag a big world all up in her bag
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Meeshell 01:50

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released September 30, 2014

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Jonathan Wood Vincent Montreal, Québec

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