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lyrics

i’m not a rapper i’m a post-modern exorcist
chew and spit venom from the solar plexus—header-less
no signifiers are holding the data down
effortlessly switch pronouns hope the beta round goes public
fuck it, I know they’ll never love it
can’t have another kind of lover huddled up for nothing
can’t snuggle up like snuffleupagus they’re stuck up on the naughty bits
a shudder hearts tangled up like a nautilus
mind all in a pad lock i heard it tapped out
these people comment on the news sites all night
they want a hail mary heavy last pass
on the tv on the track and on the feed they keep it at
intolerant hollering like a bigger man is a better man
the louder man wins when he understands a man is a man
and that’s that won’t hear another fact
the last cat to deliver that news was in a trap
but it’s better than the last time

don’t let it be another noise
pushed into the background all the time
keep your ears flush down to the ground
intertwined with all they hear around

ever since i was an infant i’ve never been different
lower middle class white male with all the privilege
that’s hidden in that system codified
and when i listen to my own voice terrified
i’m no better than the news site commenters
trite little monikers blocking behind the monitors
i’ll write a hotter verse but i’ll never be an arbiter
capacitors blown when i see what it oughta been
a little perspective here a little empathy over there
a little reassurance right now that our smiles are sincere
but no put the bitterness on max flow
play the highlight reel in slo-mo to photo your foes
i used to be a troll rolling low on compassion
so it’s not difficult to grow up from last rung
listen close listen all the time
listen especially when you’re feeling least inclined

don’t let it be another noise
pushed into the background all the time
keep your ears flush down to the ground
intertwined with all they hear around

credits

from i Am america sand so an yeti, released October 17, 2014

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Autocorrect Columbia, South Carolina

Autocorrect is a full body listening experience. The sounds therein lead to spontaneous goose flesh, getting woke all up, and contemplating the bliss inherent in suffering.

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