- ZZZ Top

Report copyright infringement
November 12, 2015


Somebody in a cultivated moment of distress, composed themselves enough to artfully carve ‘Zoso’ in this desk, they was probably thinking “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you” in they head, with a hell bound arm in a acidy wash, homemade curfew a thousand o’clock and the pot leaf tattoo his friend did drunk, like a badge of mystique though it technically sucked, taking the name of the father in vein on the way to the blade in his locker, estranged, a switch he’d lifted from a sibling’s skivvy drawer, who’d branched off into ninja stars, and never his shit was sharked to, here with a higher purpose, in the primal urge of juvenile berserkers, like Crocea Mors in a arcade drop claw gouging a valentine for Miss Othmar, watch, capital “zed”, slowly maneuver the “o”, “s” is the most difficult to control, finally “o”, into the eye of the goliath you go, that levy crushin’ percussion’ll pull the monkey upright, 12 or ghetto blaster, black or technicolor telecaster, lecture at a faster rate than class was making him develop backwards, it would appear you’ve spelled out all the answers
Somebody in a cultivated moment of distrust, composed themselves enough to magic-marker “Zulu” on these chucks, they was tryin to do the buckle font from ‘renegades of funk’, in a 3d frame of exploding brick, and whiz-lines for the locally motion sick, beyond gross but evoked a host of “oh dip” where a social neurosis owned the whole strip, heart of a cat with a lark in his mouth in the marrow of waiting his guardians out, flashlight, chisel tips, milked venom, pistol grip, images relocated from milled vellum to scissor kick, silent agreement at hand, king of the hill for a queen of the damned, she in the doorway seething began “that clean white pair had a 3-year plan!”, oops, capital “zed”, radical “u” in the cut, truly to beautiful “l”oser it up, “u” and he done, collateral damage a future alum, that key to Shambala, planet rocking, Bambaatta, sample chop, churning out a cancer for the vandal squad, analog, and he finds, animated colors on a page, like synthesized cultures on a stage
Somebody in a cultivated moment of resolve, composed themselves enough to publicize “the Zeros” in this stall, they was scoping every dog and pony previously scrawled, with a festering hate for the gum drop edge, ‘disco sucks’ tee, punk’s not dead, but a transient teen unsung godsend, via 3 bar chords and a mugshot grin, cheese, sign of a runaway tone in the face of authority thumbing it’s nose, cutting it’s teeth, pretzled up in special order vinyl, and birds that dip their belts in little metal porcupine quills, 2 dutch at a show in the front, low-key to the can for a smoke and a fuck, Trixie, fixing her lipstick up, when his mitts got bit by the mischief bug, snatch!, capital “zed”, terrible “e” in vermillion red, gimme an “r”, “o” and a slippery “s”, over a web of the shittiest bands, that beat your heart out, never bleach your favorite parts out from a learned curve, of bird fingers bursting out of germs burns, urgently, offered through the circuits of an earlier plot, I’ll see you at the bottom, ZZZ Top
When they ask how you, feeling you, tell em you, feeling like, something important died screaming, you, tell em you, feeling like, something even more important arrived breathing, something you should probably try feeding,
When they as how you, living you, tell em you, living like, something important died hissing, you, tell em you, living like, something even more important arrived giving, something you should probably try willing

Show moreShow less