The Hunt (prod. Double $coop)


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i can almost guarantee you you will never reach perfection
in opposite sex, self-reflection and in invention
always in a state of perplexion behind a pistol
and i whistle for a cab, and i get splintered by the missile
that's what baffles me
you can't replace batteries with flattery
despondent from the tug-of-war of alcohol and salary
i'm trying to fight this gut and feed it
and i'm trying to fight this gut feeling
while i'm sill breathing in treason,
she falls but it ain't the season
and i loved her once in the winter when we were dreaming
the demon in the coffin cannot deny the brilliance
you're gifted with, if only you could find that lost resilience
being focused used to come with such ease
and taking action used to be for not only just me
the cavity cavalry is losing the illusion
of decay being integral to my muse becoming toothless

the demon in the coffin
the demon in my coffee
she's screaming in the coffin
you're screaming and you're coughing

20 years from now we're gonna tighten all them loose knots
for now i ain't dancing without no Ali on the jukebox
acute substitution for lube and an old tube sock
i'm sad to say my disarray is due to some lewd thoughts
truth be told, i deserve a little passion
but i'm on a steady diet of the carcasses of has-beens
i'm being an ant in this kitchen floor juice spill
whoever comes next, you're gonna have some boots to fill
and a spliff to roll
comfortable but magicless
and a couple shots of fireball to wash it all down with
treacherous, i dabble in the art of unaffectionate
and i struggle to remember every entity i enter in
and sitting, you must remember everything you didn't do
spitting truth, youth living high below the magnitude
honestly, i don't think i live without your voice
but time is neosporin, neogushing, no choice
just pressure, i want to explore the weather
to find a better climate to launch this battered vessel
i don't got anything to do but drink brew now
and smoke a stog every two hours until i cool down
i learned a little bit tonight, school's for the birds
and i learned to write despite the fact that i'm a fool for words
i'm a man of midas plight, extra mind and out of sight
i'm the exhibitionist, i've got a black-list of spite
and i hold a stagnant, shaky fist and a wrist to be kissed
please miss show me on paper where it says that you're a bitch


released August 18, 2012



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MAGIC CESAR Ashland, Oregon

public narcissist, self-proclaimed nihilist, average writer. still riding on a smile and a shoe shine.

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