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Waterproof Camera

from Tap Water by Swordplay & Pierre the Motionless

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  • Tap Water 12" LP Limited Edition Color Vinyl
    Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Magenta vinyl w/ lyric booklet

    International shipping rates are an estimate and not guaranteed

    Includes unlimited streaming of Tap Water via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

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lyrics

When I was a child I found a Polaroid of an unholy ghost coasting on a magic carpet over Mary Magdalene’s baby trapped in a tar pit crawling his way out awful, limbs snapping in half like the saplings of apple trees, smacking bees back to see what they say. What more could I possibly say? I’ve learned a lot more in this lifetime than I can relay through thick cables stretched across the floor of an ocean. I’ve noticed nothing but feedback in that delay. Motionless, I take permanent vacation. I’m staying at rock bottom. I got a solid concentration of ultra magma like data flow ready for your translation, but I’m forever in the midst of attempting to transmit the last bits of undamaged information. Maybe I’m a madman with a muddy mind and I’ve been melting and I’m motorized by my [yerba] matés on Mondays and all the bad days that I happened to spend in a daze when a kitchen manager can manage to walk in to a walk-in and blaze. But actually, I’m in a hazmat and I’m haphazardly hacking my way back to happiness, hazardous material up in my veins. Radioactive rain on your parade and the campaign ends in agony. I’m an advocate of altered adverts that add dirt on to the capitalist tapestry. I flirt with tragedy in a belated alert message to the masses broadcasting crass syntax, and with a glass of gravity, it cracks into your hands over your head, melting plastic, snaps and then laughingly sways. I’m renegade and grenades, lost and loose lipped, full of serenades. I get my teeth chipped. Helicopter mouth propeller blades on my way down, on my way down, on my way down, on my way. My head must be some disposable camera with a flash that cannot be relied on in the dark. Please come close. I can only see things that are about three to five feet in front of me now and I can barely make out your outline. Time: a collage. Take a picture and scan it. Little dots connect but are hard to see. A little light blinking: an entire planet perhaps or another scratch on the lens. I’m tired of thinking. Fill me in. Fill me in. I spend time with time spinning on spindles of twine, lines swindling me of my winnings. Swimming next to a napping light gone dim in the sky, I got a slingshot pointed at grey clouds. I’m doing backstroke looking at em yelling Die! Die! Die! Before I pass out I pass pastels to Daltonians fixated on a pixilated black and white TV Nickelodeon broadcast. I pass slow to them. I’m on the road again, watching the galaxy at the exact moment in which it implodes again. A footnote in Existence always, I’m but a light bulb in its hallways. An AC Unit in boycott of the dog days on a window sill. I sit still and try to behave, gazing into weathered pages, melting tigers into butter like Murakami, but that’s not me. I don’t have a wrist watch or Tamagotchi. I don’t make money off of my writing; I make origami, paper airplanes and the beginnings of a makeshift bonfire. I’m sweating calmly and with ornaments on my skin. Send me away upon your flotation devices. All I got is this raft packed with a weaponized virus. No supply kit. I dream of aviation nightly. I might wind up in your flight path and crash into your astral kites but it’s unlikely like wing development. Try me. I’m signed into the mother synapse, half of me wired to the myelin and misaligned. I’m backfiring. Find me a little island with miles of my own asylum so I stay smiling on a fish hook. All I need now is a waterproof camera.

credits

from Tap Water, released June 20, 2013

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schizophrenic lieutenants and a microphone

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