Must Be Love

Still murdering math, return of the porno plumber
born-again atheist seeking a Last Supper summer
wrote a verse post muse said "I like you as a friend"
now every fucking day is a new one to begin
zero clue my life post last online update
knowing death is sure as a frat boy gang rape
oh holy shit, the nerds now pack Rugers
IQ 141 never meant a bright future
Penned off what ifs, spliffs and potential romance
wonder if it's love or pure projection no chance
Just show teeth like Satchmo for photo promos
Or signify NOLA like Elespee at the Hi Ho
Life was sold my soul to pay the cost of living
But is now want to do for you until my heart stops giving
if I die this year: I die honest
circus clown Diogenes, typical alcoholic

I have
a money making phobia, heart attack due bastard
oxycontin rotted skull-fucked speech patterns
lackadaisical praise my dick and wordplay
sick since the habit that I had in the worst way
happy day now then fist fuck the concrete
I don't want to talk politics, just want to drink
I'm OK as Tulsa, dirt on shoulder? plenty now
Murk the Caliph, Sharia Law is bullshit anyhow
Damn shwag, didn't do my stem cell research
listening to brass band before Christ's rebirth
Pelican State of mind all day, all the time
melancholic Monday, waking up beside...nevermind
won't be famous until I'm the New Orleans' Proust
Or meet Buddha in person with bullets I gotta lose
let's atone and write poems for the chick who inspires
sweat another NOLA summer, phoenix touching fire

Shallow Alchemy (Circus Clown Diogenes)

I got two cats
got Sylvia Plath on left and right brain
used to rock a Ruger in the small of my back, yeah
never no more nowadays flag namaste
damn it feels good with feet on NOLA concrete
had a habit, but it's dead as a Pres. Kennedy
keep positivity, Buddha is a friend of me
but Mary Jane Rottencrotch does interest me
she with Sobieski is my death penalty
dag ya New Orleans this is my soliloquy 
allow me to reintroduce myself revelry
got as many rhymes as I do insane ex g-fs
signify Psycho Ward krewe, respect
and hey, you, yes you, so glad we met
this life had thus far truly helps ease death
don't crave dying, not going too soon
but maybe to Olympia for booze and cat food
shucks, I could go for a po boy say
and a Powerball ticket, it could be my day
feeling like several million bucks
truly give a shit just fresh out of fucks
hop off my porch, make the stroll
thoughts upon my past lives took toll
got to store, made purchase, shit me
as I turned, dag, guess who I did see

Le Homecoming Dance

Keep My Name Out Your Fucking Mouth

for the "Bonnie & Clyde Chronicles" project with A.M.U.S.E.

What The Fuck?! (instrumental)

from the Dark Twain Kalashnikov EP "southernlackadaisicalpantydroppingmuzik"

Gutter Punk Bitches Need Soap - Dark Twain Kalashnikov

Truth Bitters

robotic motion, baby
lets make some tales grim
my brother's asking me why I bothered
fucking with you again
must be some chemistry
remembering limbs entangled
like some octopus S&M
and damn your pussy spit venom
but I'm cool with that
I shoot poisoned darts like Hovitos
poison, still fresh, three days
that's why I stay indy
know you as sidekick me
when I'm down but the sex
despite tainted with hatred
is the best I do makeshift
and what's love got to do
with lonely hearts
whom need touch to think life
begins as things fall apart?
I wanted to die a few times
when you weren't going full cunt
and felt alive with arguments
clearly what the fuck I want
fucking melodrama, serotonin lacking in my macking
golden moments with that lover slash opponent
hatred: owned it, we drifted
you sucked other dick
I still loved you tasting
that on your lips, I'm sick

know saints housed in the loyalty building
but that building's set for demolition
so we gypsy
take few women at their
word, this ain't misogynistic
most people strike me as sketchy
I stay cynic
grab my dick like I'm thuggin'
quote Diogenes
shooting for the stars and yet
succumb to L-C-D
that's the bitter Brian kid in me stuck to cross
my favorite folks have looks of angels slaying veritas
robotic motion
I find your lies sexy as all heck
and love you more when you go disrespect
accustomed to the zen of a punching bag
gives me the license to hate you full on right the fuck back
and when I'm sober
I know this ain't right, frienemy
craving psychological abuse for the memories
I keep your number though
masochistic addicted
we're picture perfect for mentally ill kismet

Truth Bitters

Me, Ol Dirty Bastard and the Dead Kennedys

Too Drunk To Shimmy Ya

Eric B. & Rakim's "Follow the Leader" with The Breeders "Cannonball." 

Follow The Breeder

The Eels' "Novocaine For The Soul" meets Nas' "Made You Look." 


Made You Novocaine For Soul

Hold It Now, Hit It (Yauch Rock Remix) - Beastie Boys

Part two in my Beastie Boys remixes. Dedicated to Adam Yauch, Rest In Peace. 

Paul Revere (Pelican Remix) - Beastie Boys

The third installment in my Beastie Boys remix series. Dedicated to Adam Yauch, Rest In Peace

Hey Ladies (A View To Get Ill Remix) - Beastie Boys

My all time favorite Beastie Boys song. Dedicated to Adam Yauch, Rest In Peace. 

Car Thief (Bastille Hour of Chaos Remix) - Beastie Boys

Back to representing the West Coast. Remix of "It's Raining Game (In Northern California)." Mac Dre, Rest In Peace. 


It's Raining Game (Pelican Bay Remix) - Mac Dre

From the upcoming album. Lyrics here....

We Didn’t Warn You (The Swan Song)

This ain’t emo, I’m 30 plus, beat my critics to the punch
I’m an American who drinks too much
spotlight? bum rushed, still not resigned
Blaknif knew wayback I was ahead of my time
From credit declined to my head kissing her thighs
every chick who ever wished I’d die
By last count, eh, rather decline to say
But the beat was fresh and it went this way…
Coughing up blood again, maudlin
oxycontin cushions the rock bottom
Waltzing with depressed, fishing for regrets
Crack'd bottle, toast this broken record’s refresh
This clip has ten, none marked for me, I stress
Caressed the steel, sparked zen, I’m sitting
In this efficiency a-p-t contemplating
Booze, broads and carpe noctum, yes?
Phone buzzed, from her, eh all too often
her anarchy had me so Johnny Rotten
Call her H, we'd spoon, listen to rain
Syncopate upon the Uptown concrete
And inside I wore this heart on the sleeve, no alarm
Falling for her, never mind what’s going up her right arm
Eyes rolled back, confused love with smack
“Not for me, bitch, but that?! Get the fuck out my flat!”
Weeks passed, we re-started
My circle said I’m retarded, should have left her departed
But guess my bipolar side, you right
Texted back, “hey baby, come on over tonight”

Medicated minutes with this visit
“Ain’t seen you since you had your wrists scissored”
wits never, just a pigeon with broken wings
bitching about shit we face with or sans syringe
yet she lifted my spirits, comparing her to I
the dysphoria gave me peace of mind
that’s messed, I’ll be the first to confess
this twisted game of pin the tail on where my life’s blessed
despised by my friends
‘cause when she’d slide through I’d déjà vu the drug binge
but fuck them, she and I are soul mates
plus she had good connects with cats that sold H
preferred yayo, though H warms my veins
pro any method to escape pain I’d be faithful
she’d light a cigarette to enhance the calm
I’d take a drag then put it out on my arm



We Didn't Warn You (The Swan Song)

Frankie and Johnnie

Everything N.O.
You want to get on some shybe shit
Frankie and Johnnie sly on live shit
Everything N.O.
Bad credit? eh, let 'em have it
too fresh since the jurassic

Heart of a Dr. John eating won ton Downtown
who schemed since hurricanes to never frown now
in part this line of reason is vodka in the system
Stoli for martinis, on budget shit spit lesson
sipping that poison
lean into stall (sad clown)
vomit on jeans
bad night (adopted hometown)
all city plans
Elespee in my CD deck
GPC fucking gets my respect!
homeless and hopeless life
I had until anti-dope focus
no train tracks, and you know this
eyeballs bloodshot, confess
she had my heart playing guinea pig
'til I'm free of bitch stress
full of muffaletta, eat well from Central Grocery
shit, I'm chubby boy
but no grave for this kid
keep ass on South Murat
more Psycho Ward boom bap
the Louisiana Murder Show flow smack (right on)
shybe since pre-K, death smells of cinnamon
I ain't a zombie but a trained word murk simian
Say brah
(Him again)
the rad fuck a duck Pelican
sleaze beats, Big Easy beast passionate
rarely wordless, mal fuck loquacious in N.O.
Category 5 has me grinding dental
the balcony for witnessing was off Tchoupitoulas
dark cloud horizon, time to meet Buddha
like I'm ever gonna move to elsewhere USA
might as well shave my brain with rust razorblades
fuck this, you must be on smack, silly broad
or smoking crack with false gods off St. Claude
or FOX News bitches got you mentally sick
I'm drunk on streetcar, writing "Tempest" on my dick
bumping Jimi Clever on my headphones, shit
or a Tony Skratchere mash up megamix

Everything N.O.
You want to get on some shybe shit
Frankie and Johnnie sly on live shit
Everything N.O.
Bad credit? eh, let 'em have it
too fresh since the jurassic

(Excuse me, Gnarly Sagan
Why your eyes to night sky?)
I'm just waxing philosophical, double fisting High Lifes
(Are you the designated driver?)
Hah, you fucking kidding me?
wrestle my better angels yet fuck my demons lyrically
(Is my mommy in Chalmette?)
well, dude, she ain't here
now off you go to drink Abita and fap to Britney Spears
I'm trying to hook up with lil mama, not her, but she
too many dirty thoughts
my brain's perverted dusty
750 milliliters drunk down
fuck clown
sitting upon curb, three slaps from the hoodrat cow
her hooves click clack off, sobriety reminded
never like a pretty broad when beer goggles designed it
everything she says is really unfunny insipid
every curve is really not a muse for a stiff dick
grab K-Y
this sad man fap fan, dime on mind but sans chick
done crazy bitches no wonder he's celibate
see him smile
peep if it's fake
reading Michael Patrick Welch's words again today
found authentic transformation when brass plays, son
making 504 as home's so fun
if I'm alone, that's cool
I can be alone with my raps
up at Harrah's Casino betting paycheck on craps
you like Hubig's Pies, cool
I can't lie, I do, too
nevermind I'm diabetic with sugar high through roof
and sick of acting like Hip Hop is great
I'm double fist in Fate's twat pouring my soul to beats break
crawfish with French Rose spit
go son
you're with a storm chaser, a Saint but ain't wholesome



Frankie and Johnnie

featuring d.o.n. and wyzdom threesixty. from the album "non valide pour voyager"

Funny Kind Of Yellow

it is what it is
lost love I kissed
self made apocalypse, bitch
wealth in importance
god amongst rodents
if only fulfilled intelligence quotient
just want to draw
sing, write
and kill the cabernet by fuckin' daylight
occupy barstool
arson wall street
blue collar as fuck now, blow me

so fucking happy
recognize grin
this is the way the world ends
me digging you now
you now betray
them fucking snake eyes, oy vey
should have known better
god damn
could have kept kosher, go ham
no real shocker
fuck pass the vodka
or wine, fuck it, time for obnoxious

CHORUS

too fucking live
walk amongst zombies
these motherfuckers: Mitt Romney
Molotov cocktail
whisper the exhale:
NSA on me, code via e-mail
meet me in NOLA
why...not?
if death in the U.S. this is the spot
can't plan it better
been there, done that
an already used up 8 lives cat
9th to the 3rd
still represent
phoenix from ashes still pelican
fire been through that
mutant
after break up make up lucid
take up my life
to love just she
mixed with alcohol total trusting
I know she'll betray
just way it goes
ever stuck on romance and prose

CHORUS

can't have the ain't
markers and paint
compensate for can't relate
thought I met her
but, umm, negative
ready to numb, go sedative
booze, pills, smoke
smile on
inbetween day job and krylon
troubles pile on
self imposed
now list of aww fuck it grows

but damn I love her
and still inspired
gonna write on 'till pulse expires
must have a muse
she
can't quite explain why I'm still trusting
happy I must be
death blow me
fuck if she won't take my nuts as a trophy
lonely, alright
smiling
wasted, back to drunk dialing 

Happy

Le Hyslop (Non Valide Pour Voyager)

Producer, lyricist, mutant. One half of the Slick Bastards (with Tony Skratchere), Brian & David Love Them Hoes (with Wyzdom 360), 23 Doves and Louisiana Murder Show (with John Deaux). Lives in New Orleans with a black cat named Hurley. Loves vodka, sci-fi, shooting BB guns, making beats, remixes and eating frijoles rojos volteados out of a bag.

Brian Pelican

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