where the internet goes to die

been writing a few little old raps over this break. this one doesn’t have a name yet, and it isn’t finished. it goes to the beat of atmosphere’s “my songs” which is already an ultra-slap, so i don’t think i did the beat justice, but maybe i’ll put up a recording of it tomorrow of what i have so far and you can tell me.

if i ever found out how to catch my breath

i guess i’d have to let it out with a few seconds left

i’m not the ype of man with a knack for

self-preservation, fat checks, or high quiz scores

guilt tripping; easier than girl kissing

and on any given night, i’m splattered in wishful thinking

obviously, im a little self centered

and by little, i’m talking about the moby dick of disheveled

but you, lets figure out the truth behind the mood

your life is a beer away from a blue moon

and i can’t figure out how you keep the blue cool

with a fork in your mouth and blow in your spoon

you talk about your boss

while you hit the sauce

and complain that your brain ain’t working tip-top

and still you don’t celebrate where your life’s at

you just sit there and masturbate to this white rap

i like it when they keep information on their wrist

and insist that they  don’t just do it cause it’s hip

and i like it when their hips move side to side

cause i’m a scumbag, asshole, prick, low-life

ain’t that right? still, i’d love to know about your life

only problem is my ears don’t work in daylight

and you think and you’re scared that i smoke too much weed

the way im irrationally scared of dentistry

and then there’s me,

mad swagged out to a tee

all i ever wanted from life was a little peace

but they gave me a slice

and said, “here’s a compromise,

now go forth and do work

and don’t believe the lies.”

i see it in their eyes

when they wake up in a pool of vomit and freedom fries

put your shoes on punk, and do a little shaving

and girl, you look beautiful, can i call you misbehaving

hello my name is cesar and i’m very please to meet you

so do you have an email or a phone where i can reach you?

something about the lights and the sound in this room

really hits home, feels good, i hope i see you soon

actually, gradually fitting in the norm

and factually scattered, but spitting up a storm

getting warm, naked, raise your hand if you’re a raider

and fuck rolling blunts, i’m a rebel bitch i’m ashing papers

there’s a difference between what i wanna say and what i feel

and that difference can be described with a banana peel

simple, there ain’t much i care about

but my butterfly, i swear to god, tonight we gotta keep it down

what the hell am i saying?

and what the hell’s this game we’re playing?

and is this tree really decaying?

and if you’re the question, then maybe i’m the answer

but we can’t really answer that unless we’re going faster