Bona Drag Tape

from by Ceschi

lyrics

LYRICS

Getting old
Balls growing longer
Gandalf gray Ear hairs like Grandfather
This must be the feeling of waking naked in tundra
Fat bones, Miss milk and sunny summers
Not a good look like me 2-day stubble
Hit the king with left hooks, start a royal rumble
Word to mother
All my ex-girlfriends are mothers
Baby brother’s having babies
Still worry my mother
In 1990 wanted to be Dikembe Mutombo
Now I’m 5’10” something and still can’t dunk though
Just grew up to be like Big Pun eating Mofongo
Where my phone go?
Where my fun go?
Uh oh
On the internet a right-winger called me cuckold
Forget about it fucko
Rest for a whole note
This must be the feeling of being buried in rubble
This must be the feeling of fleeing from certain trouble
This must be the feeling of sighing out of relief before they lock you up or put your ass to sleep
Tonight, I believe I am the Mohegan Sun of God
Blackjack table and my cock’s rock hard
Recurring dreaming of being taken out by cops
Therapist told me I got some PTSD problems
Dream punches never land
Thrice broken arm, filled to the brim with a titanium rod
Those bones never really heal, they stay splintered
Not a great look like Connecticut winters
Pretty for a day
Shitty for a month
Trying to make a buck finding new ways to say
“I don’t give a fuck”
What?
Youth flew by faster than a pog craze
Geckos and Marine world Africa USA
Long gone slap bracelets
‘88
Foggy east bay
Green dinosaur cake
Baby when I’m gone you will miss my hairy face and the way my lips taste sipping Old Colony grape
Just promise that you’ll love me like my Bona Drag tape
I will always love you like my Bona Drag tape
You got me through some long days when money was gone, bay
Sad drives back from the casino with negative pay
Listening to Phil Elverum every day
Sometimes I feel as if I need to punch shitty people
I have seen the Juggalo painted faces of evil
I have seen a crack cookie cooking, dirty needles
I have seen a glass stem hold a mini-rose through a foggy 7-11 window
Behind the counter one can hear the beautiful jazzy warble of Rhodes hovering there over a shotgun fully loaded
Pretty sure this music will not heal your broken bones
Pretty sure this music cannot mend my broken bones
They ask me what it sounds like in Europe, I don’t know
Ask me what it sounds like at Christmas, I don’t know
Just promise that you’ll love me like that Bona Drag tape
I will always love you like my Bona Drag tape
If I French kiss this gun, feel the cold steel on my tongue
Picture me happy for once
Remember me when I am dead and gone
Hope they feed my body to a tree & not a grave
Hope they send my ashes into deepest darkest space
With the monkey from the cover of the Doolittle case
Hope they make me into something more than more waste.

credits

from Sad, Fat Luck, released April 4, 2019

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Fake Four Inc. New Haven, Connecticut

Fake Four Inc. is a record label based in New Haven, CT that specializes in experimental hip hop, indie pop and anything else we like.

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