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Uhh​.​.​. feat. nahhphet [prod. LXMONGRAB]

from the T​.​C. Wash Suite by Rhys Langston

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lyrics

authentic nonsense
thesaurus on a park bench

doing an about face
to round out my pretense

uhh, put my gene sequence
on leaflets, homophones,
ad-libs, ad-hominem,
no credence

days like these, I’m
an ink cartridge,
days like these, I
fail to get started

transmission locked in lowest gear,
granted manumission through fear,
uhh… what am I doing here?

writing in circles,
2πr times the word count,
if that amount is needed
to surmount the summation
of this blockage

(well)
f(x) equals the tuition
I spent for college,
whereas x is perceived mental wattage
(what?)

goddamn, that’s some trippy shit
and so dries the ink pen tip

goddamn, that’s some trippy shit,
fountain leaking reflections with
suppled linguistics.

[nahhphet]:
Taking off my glasses..
it’s too many refractions
to bear, no teddy, but cozy if you let me
pander to the tender grasses.
Lend the ashes to earth
and tend to half of all our worth,
but still denying where the god is;
look how progress led us all the way to atavism..
Aw fuck now, what was I supposed to have written?
Slipping like the butter on the corn bread;
dripping to the plate,
just how we're born dead and live to be erased -
nah thats too dark really.
Park silly / Building serious:
Intersects hubristic with the query-ous,
Drape the negligee of my deliriousness..
nah I’m just tearing down binaries
and wine sharing with the lush
malarky on my lips,
when sparking up the spliff
you twist up the next and we can talk big corporation,
cynical nation,
history of racism,
something about patience..
Laugh aloud
but laugh in person to your phone
now don’t just type it to me if you don’t
express it, that sounds cancerous.
To the sea from an abandoned ship
like it’s the brain
the ego
the fame
the evils
the sane
the regal
the….

credits

from the T​.​C. Wash Suite, released October 7, 2019

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Rhys Langston Los Angeles, California

From smoked salmon to freshwater microphones.

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