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lyrics

Late last May a woman from the CIA became inquisitively pervasive in my social life,
A sedated auditory illusion of her pure but fragile mental state.
Side effects of societal constructs.

Silent as fish and taught with a guilty virtue,
She was swinging from the loosely bolted chandelier.
A habit she had picked up after a strange 2 week binge on Klonopin that left her breaking vending machine glass at a used Honda dealer.
The trapped Twix bar hanging in convinent car purveyor purgatory.
A symbol of her own vulnerability triggering something she hadn't shown to anyone.
Stripping naked in a fit of pure imagined rage,
She slowly approached the showroom floor.

Engulfed in a putrid flame of dried excrement,
She rose from the ashes of her former body,
Flapping the ominous wings of her new hosts unsettlingly large corpse.
Still and silent as sleeping fish,
She waits with a captive irreverence outside the funeral parlor,
Dread hangs hauntingly in her dead pan smile,
Eyes of resistance to emotional comprehension,
Existential despair of existence left unkempt.
The doors of the hall fly open just as her eyes begin to tear with a viscous black tar.

Funeral attendees scream in retched horror,
Blood pooling in their scarred and shallow throats.

credits

from Surrealist Realities, released April 22, 2022

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Psychiatric Metaphors New Jersey

Psychiatric Metaphors

The Music of Sam Taylor

Acid on Toast Records

King Pizza Records

Little Dickman Records

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