Going to funk my gunk

Cannibal

Red Moon by Will Wood and the Tapeworms from Everything is a Lot. ©2015

Red, red moon. Keep on rising. 
The sunset soon indeed will bleed in my horizon. 
The crescent rests, tethered to the west. 
Waxing to the rhythm writhing in my chest. 
That crack between the watercolor sky and sea is the 
corner where you’re born in the mist. 
I might deride the tide, ‘cause I’m pulled as it pools about my feet. 
Towards your stolen light, while you’re holding my slight gravity. 

Well I walk the equator, chasing the light; little do I know it orbits close behind. 
I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once 
In a red, red moon. I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon. 

Red, red moon. When will your shadows break? 
Tell the truth; what’re you hiding behind that face? 
If matters in then I might space out, 
why can’t I take in what you’ve been putting out? 
Why do I reject while you endlessly reflect? 
While you’re projecting your perfection astounds 
Nighttime, please hide my eyes, so the man up there won’t watch me stare. 
Teach me to make moonshine, and we’ll get drunk on the spirit of the air. 

Well I walk the equator, chasing the light; little do I know it orbits close behind. 
I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once 
In a red, red moon. I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon. 

The constellations form infinite paisleys in the sky 
The condensation tumbles down and erases my sight 
And is it in the nightmare map of the cosmos up high? 
Or is it in the signs? Or stranger still, just in my eyes? 

Well I walk the equator, chasing the light; little do I know it orbits close behind. 
I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once 
In a red, red moon. I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon.

RED MOON

From "Everything is a Lot" by Will Wood and the Tapeworms.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hl5XUM_qoN4

Six-up, five-oh, pigs come, I cop n’ go. 
The blotter shows they got me on the rocks like Galapagos. 
Good luck finding critters creepy as me. They shoulda fried me, I’ll give ya PTSD 
Vodka shots droppin’ down the throat they been stompin’ on. 
Cockin’ guns, lockin’ up, the quotas all for shock n’ awe. 
Drivin’s tirin’, and I been hot-wirin’ to make my get away from the jailbreak riot and 
Cellmates scrapin’ upon the bricks in the basement, 
tryin’ to escape this probation generation- too late! 
Crazy fuckers’ gotta do the time. 
Committed to the mental ward, committing all the crimes. 
I’m alive and kickin’ till the split ends fray. 
Maybe plead insane, guilty, but I’m not to blame! 
I’m a slave to the main vein, sprayin’ on the mainframe. 
Suffering the infrastructure, hoping I can maintain! 
Oh how I know how I go how I go. Ask me a question the answer I know. 
Yes or no options don’t weigh out and so; I don’t ever see the cons and the pros. 

You bare a striking resemblance. 
Some kind of semblance of somethin’ I been rememberin’. 
You appear familiar dear. You look just like my bathroom mirror. 
Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. Oh please, let me go! 
Please police- is it a test? I won’t know till I’m under arrest. 

The drunk-tank’s blood red. Junkie’s gonna relapse. 
Some think punk’s dead, me I don’t believe that. 
Rock n’ roll gatherin’ the moss till I be that lichen-coated boulder, make you slip, 
Bust your kneecap! 
Open on the amazon, hide the cure for cancer. 
I’m Lance Armstrong, you’re the necromancer. 
Slash n’ burn, crash into the 42nd answer, 
all my fellow skeletons adore the army ants here. 
Flies on my eyeballs, scabs on my elbows. 
Heaven knows God’s sittin’ up there like “Hell no!” 
Only one thing comes to those who wait. Is it too late to embrace your fate? 
My death come swiftly and gently to you. 
Mayhem, cry mayday, and oncoming doom. 
Save your convictions, they never will do. What you say’s at least 1/6 billionth true. 

You bare a striking resemblance. 
Some kind of semblance of somethin’ I been rememberin’. 
You appear familiar dear. You look just like my bathroom mirror. 
Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. Oh please, let me go! 
Please police- is it a test? I won’t know till I’m under arrest. 

Am I being detained? Am I under arrest? 
Read me my rights please. I want my phone call. 
Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. Oh please, let me go! 
Please police- is it a test? I won’t know till I’m under arrest.

6up 5Oh CopOut (Pro/Con)

Well its 4 in the morning & I can't sleep a wink
Alone in my room, left to over think
Was it real, unclear, or something I drank
Brain still in the barrel, so it might be a mistake
But she did something to me, that I cant explain
Ash and bones, horrific moans, I barely got away

Well we met for drinks off a digital screen
Trying to get lucky if you know what I mean
A second location where things got weird
She's whispering tongues into my ears
Fell into a trance, by her siren song
Push back the vale, saw the stare, from the great beyond

She's everywhere and nowhere at the same time
Sleeps no relief she's infected my mind
A shape shifting, catfishing, magical freak
Only hear her voice when others speak
It worsens by the day, a broken paranoid
Seeped inside, fresh baptized, a gift from void

She's out on the hunt, for pray like me
All eyes our her spies, that she oversees
You can run and you can try and hide
But in the end she'll get her prize (she gets what she wants)

Yeah she's coming, yeah she's coming, yeah she's coming for you

Yeah she's coming, yeah she's coming, yeah she's coming for you and there's nothing you can do

credits:
Lyrics: Jon Adams
Music: The Upstart Crows (Aaron Takiff, Adam Becker, Jon Adams)

Instrument Performance:
Vocals/Guitar: Jon Adams
Bass/Key: Adam Becker
Drum: Aaron Takiff
Saxophone: Stefan Zeniuk
Piano: Amanda Addleman

Production: Adam Becker / Jon Adams
Mixing Engineer: Joey Papa
Engineer: James Cronier / Adam Becker
Mastering Engineer: Joey Papa

Prey

The Funhouse

Eat You

Eat You (From "The Funhouse" CD)

& - Tally Hall

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