| trapped outside the m.o.m.a. (factory), overnight (i'm broke), and if i wanted this like sentimental, i'd say, "oh that ol' thing, she's the cork from bottle one new year's eve 1999." i've gotten ahold of every human famous, dead or alive, there ends life's work, and am appending them as the latest issue of earth sees fit, it appears the biggest trend for the last few hundred years has been humans, and they be doing some crazy, crazy shit. (sometimes the song sounds like this). Blanketed in-sanity all i am is just shy of perfect, in a one car sky.. .tape decks make for great company, artificial day ideals got us all glued on to the job.. wish bones after 5:00 and 2 days out of a week to live.. Pay bills or...Take pills. withdraw from bank or body.. I choose the latter. The 12 step ladder added a rung. When I reach the summit I'll touch the sun&light my cigarette from it. aside from how trees work for a hundred years or more, there's little surprise, maybe dreamworld, possibly.. my way out of a paper bag? just imagine you're not in it, take right mind and fake plant, and then throw the stupid thing out the window, be a guru on its way to quitting fast food all together. an ending beginning again, again, a line. long walks on short tangents. genius is like moments, everybody's got one. i'd love to meet this the inventor of... they say pulls mankind evolved out of voids. i bet he's got the body of an angel and the wings of a human. forgot, the only thing to ever truly hear a person, forgot. the only thing to ever truly care. all i am is just shy of perfect, in a one car sky... i'm a fucking nineties guy. i like three buckles per outfit. i enjoy my hip hop music loud. i say things like, "there is no god," "i hate computers," and "i couldn't find the right woman to save my life." i'm a fucking nineties guy. all my rainbows are in, you guessed it, oil puddles, i taught myself to write (and keep friends in mind while thinking). i'm a fuckin' nineties guy (neither of which i do perfect), my way out of a paper bag. i'm a fucking nineties guy, i'll trade my diploma collection for some of that there happiness seed... i'm a fucking nineties guy... boom bap never fails to fit in my heavy rotation 98.9 of you rappers make me fucking sick, cuz I'm a fucking nineties guy... continue to glorify violence and glamorize peddling crack to your community I bet spending a fiends money makes you happy maybe you will view your lyrics in a different light once you find your daughter and wife selling their bodies for a fix. But.. You are a fucking nineties guy, as am I A E I O U and sometimes,,there is no such thing a a dumb question so I ask. Y are we FUCKING nineties guys'??? |
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Nineties Guy in a paper bag rewrite
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Alright, Im'a break it down:
ReplyDelete"When I reach the summit
I'll touch the sun&light my cigarette from it."
This reminds me of the most interesting scene from Spencer's Fairy Queen. The knight who represents the christian everyman climbs to the top of a mountain with a wise man, looks at heaven, turns back to earth and is blinded. In other words, the whole allegory thing is useless, it's all spectacle and no substance, so forget the spectacle. Or, just say fuck it and light up since that damn spectacle is just so bright... Oh, and I think this whole stanza is strong as hell.
Other things:
I like the chorus; the bit about a one car sky.
"aside from how trees work for a hundred years or more,
there's little surprise, maybe dreamworld, possibly.."
-This line does nothing for me. It reads awkwardly.
The end is hilarious, as it should be.