I’m made of papier-mâché. When I wake up, it’s lights out and then I like to wander away. Well, I’ve been skull fucked with a musket. And I don’t trust it. I’m rusty like lusting after young love with no substance. I’ve stumbled my way out of a jungle tumbling all about without making any footprints, and I’m stuck in the pit with cottonmouth and no limbs. In a belligerent Zen. I must have been up daydreaming on a GRTC city bus again. A combustible engine. Water pumps and skin. Simon says nothing of note to sovereign men. I dream of then and your words, and I need a pinch. An aluminum bat in my face and I won’t flinch. And I don’t give a fuck about how much he can bench. See, there’s money on the line and money’s money all the time, but this time I’m in line for a live show mindfuck. I’m spinning with the Fan blades. I’m dancing on a table with a hand grenade. Tap dance. Three a.m. Strange arcades. Arcane matter. Sound fades… Ear wax made of forgotten memories, I pick at it with a pick axe and pixilated skew on things perhaps. The nuances sting. And I don’t get gravity or self-made maps. It never happened. It was bound to collapse. I’m on that same plane with a fate that I can’t cash. Have you ever met a pack of scientists that could not split an atom? I’m picking it apart and spittin the littlest bits at em. Adam and Eve’s coffin. A sleeping bag for two. Use fabric softener often. I got Planet Earth and a bionic dolphin. But you’re in the middle of a kissing contest. Walk up in the club with radioactive bling. Get carried away on a pterodactyl wing. Personal attack, I castle my king, take the cockpit and make the captain sing. Sing me to sleep. I’m on my feet. I’ve got a secret that I really can’t keep but it reeks of insincerity, and five years later I don’t dare to say “prepare yourself for disparity” because I am a parody of my former self. No clarity like time on a watch on a wrist in a fight. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m made of papier-mâché. When I wake up, it’s light out and then I like to wander away…
credits
from Tap Water,
released June 20, 2013
Written and performed by Isaac Lyons Ramsey a.k.a. Swordplay
Produced by Pierre De Brouwer a.k.a. Pierre the Motionless
Sometimes you come across an artist that is compelled to do what they do.
I appreciate the musicality and the arrangement and the artistry of the songs. He sings and plays like his life depends on it. I appreciate the humanity of the lyrics… Like reading Tortilla Flats, or watching Nobody’s Fool.
Ceschi is a bright star. I’m glad he’s loose in the world. oldtruck
This new EP from producer Fil Jackson will thrill fans of underground hip-hop with its dense atmospherics & a feature from rapper Lungs. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 4, 2023
Album of the year. In a fair and just world, they would be headlining festivals with this one. Big hooks. Vivid verses. Fingers-crossed, the instrumentals will get the vinyl treatment. Goodwill Hunter