betterwatchyourback.mp3 ft. Gao the Arsonist

NEW RAGE

CREEP


Produced by Jake Weinberg
Written by Thorne Baker

Missing Persons

RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES

HORSESHOE

AND THEY MINE FOR OUR BODIES

WITNESS

Cabin Fever [Bedroom LIVE Recording]

Ephemeral Love feat. Gao the Arsonist

All Inquires (Production/Features/Collabs/A nice chat): 

Email:
gaothearsonist@gmail.com

Instagram:
@guywithanoldasslaptop

Lyrics:
teeth grit and fist clenched,
calling for God,
now he reeks: spit and piss drenched him, (huh)
bloodied piece ripped from his wrist
when he slit them,
to withstand
bombshells:
fell he did dig trenches,
lay face down in the dirt,
certain that at this rate now,
he'll be burnt up,
curtains,
like: show's over,
hope the he'll cope with the broken bones,
and stay strong 'till it blows over,
and it will right?
answer me, don't kill quiet,
force fed hard to swallow pills prior,
to when I found out you can't chill fire,
feels drier in the pool of knowledge,
than my mouth when it's filled with prayer,
I'm not built with higher tolerance than all rest,
I can toil until i'm tired and I'm tired,
of looking at the leading,
I should peel the piper, wear his skin,
need a light in the labyrinth,
drown him in paraffin:
man-candle,
man-handled, been,
roughed up,
just brush up?
now that's the thing,
I feel as strong as molasses thin,
the chance I invested in,
I'm cherishing,
it seems to be perishing,
battalions of tallied failures are garrisoned,
on the horizon,
sun rise, dawn, stride cross the sky,
fall till the night comes,
then my corpse collects flies on it,
I'm looking for the answer with the lights on,
but my sight's gone,
light a pipe bong,
or a pipe bomb,
between my lips,
either way I'm getting blasted,
acid re-flux, give a fuck if it's rancid,
fear stricken bastard,
shirt sticky, plastered to my chest,
with my sweat,
so close to kissing caskets,
nigga.

eaten up by questions, cotton candy at the carnival,
silence leaves me breathless like asthmatic late for rendezvous,
tell me who to ask,
tried the shit they taught in Sunday school,
answers always quiet like the sky I'm fucking talking to.

nah bitch,
no need for sipping on booze
pick the spliff from your lips,
no tripping on boof,
I don't need no fuck niggas twisting the truth,
too advanced in that shit:
mind blank and confused, uh,
lack of answers cause cancerous tumor,
spread to my head quick like bitches with rumors,
looks like enlightenment's later than sooner.

just let me know where I fucked up,
fill my face with holes from a buckshot,
on my knees chewing gravel, yeah I'll dust off,
all my pride if you decide to give me some thought,
that I ain't already heard before, fuck what he say,
I need words divorced from the brain-dead and the cliche,
wanna put a stick in my mouth like I suck adhesive,
mimic a bitch with a stick between its teeth.

eaten up by questions, cotton candy at the carnival,
silence leaves me breathless like asthmatic late for rendezvous,
tell me who to ask,
tried the shit they taught in Sunday school,
answers always quiet like the sky I'm fucking talking to.

I Need Answers

All Inquires (Production/Features/Collabs/A nice chat): 

Email:
gaothearsonist@gmail.com

Instagram:
@guywithanoldasslaptop

Lyrics:
beam of light at 3:05 in the A.M.
screen on, typed up 3 + lines just to waste them,
daybreak seconds away, reckon I can taste when,
the night dies,
me? I like your phenotypes through the webcam,
peace of mind, I see outlines of incandescence,
sun of today's stubborn, duvet covers stuffed with best damn, substitute for comfort lose my head.
beam of light at 3:05 in the A.M.
screen on, typed up 3 + lines just to waste them,
daybreak seconds away, reckon I can taste when,
the night dies,
me? I like your phenotypes through the webcam,
peace of mind, I see outlines of incandescence,
sun of today's stubborn, duvet covers stuffed with best damn, substitute for comfort lose my head.

'pose I owe the loneliness to hours even evening skies sleep.
only pillow talk I dribble out is cursing with the cotton in my teeth.

sticky sheets, the liquids reeking as they mix,
pretty pink from the seamen and the wrists, (yah)
fluids diluted by sweat seeping from my skin.
pity peaches and the tree branch that they're picked from.

still saw dawn in the A.M.
tears are dried by the A.M.
A.M.
A.M.

A.M.

For The Rush

for the rush </3 (demo)

Gao the Arsonist aka Sludgegod Gao aka OJ Sludgeson aka the boy with the mask and the overalls

STAY SLUDGED

business inquiries: ferri@goodproblems.co

RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES

Gao the Arsonist (@gaothearsonist)

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