Aesop Rock - Zero Dark Thirty lyrics

[Verse 1] Look Unsigned hype Front line aeronauts flurry Zero dark thirty Zero friends minotaur-fugly stepchild Evoke lunch jumped over plunging necklines Up, beside tongue-tied hungry enzymes Devolved into mothmen munching textiles Punisher Out past go-time Back 10 fried worms chubbier Brown gra** both sides Canned food Manmade tools Lanacane, band aids, mandrake root Bindle on a broomstick, pancaked shoes And a handshake-proof campaign, can’t lose Can’t gain Smoke out moles like a force of nature Pray fortune return to his favor Swiftly Maybe in the form of a nest egg Maybe in the form of a tesla d**h ray Or a solid gold scene with something better to celebrate Than powder on a face like a flatfoot on jelly day M-m-moral compa** all batsh** Spinning in the shadows of immoral magnets Are we supporting the artist or enabling the addict I mean, I guess it matters to me I wish it mattered to you How a thousand virtues Kick the same bucket like chinatown turtles [Hook] Roving packs of elusive young become Choke-lore writers over boosted drums In the terrifying face of a future tongue Down down from a huntable surplus to one [Verse 2] (Check his own) Breakneck pulse Over colors in a drain That emote sugar skulls in the rain Flower-eyes melting Guided by a levy made of that tile, tilting Quarter up and headed for the k** screen No corner cut, no build team Only a particularly menacing Angle perpendicular to everything Boys room cherry bomb Boy/goon very much runnin' with the devil in the mellotron Hello Here’s where a tale of caution Pounds coffin nails To bootlegs of Hawkwind, saw tooth Nevermind straw to gold Spin hearts on sleeves into heads on poles Arm in the maw Fish out pith like a business card in a jar at the mall A-alike androids dreaming of carbon applause Get stuffed with cartoon cigars Cold pack, neti-pot, home to roost Around folk backed into what they most lampoon Shook to the fevered brow and broke ankles Daisy, declawed pound, no thank you Fade me Failed all basic training But I spent a couple groundhog days with a changeling Silhouette the god’s last cigarette Anything less would be ri-god-damn-diculous [Hook] Roving packs of elusive young become Choke lore writers over boosted drums In the terrifying face of a future tongue Down down from a huntable surplus to one