Invite me in to your apartment, baby.
We could play a game:
backgammon, gin, parcheesi.
I don’t get the joke—oh.
Please take off your shoes.
You’ll get dirt on the carpet.
Sure, I heard your band.
It sounds like Frank Sinatra.
No it’s not my scene,
but I’ll come anyways.
See you at the show
if there’s not something better.
I will bring a friend;
she likes that ambient shit.
Oh, won’t you please
excuse my dear Aunt Sally.
She was never taught
the order of operations.
First you make a claim,
then turn it on its head.
First you act so nice,
and then you stick the knife in.
I go on hunger strikes
when I am starving.
I am celibate
when I can’t get laid.
This album fucks as hard as dripping and magic but imo feels the most personal and emotional release of the three. It’s weird and frantic but hits
this really interesting balance.
jude