Saints Are Hard To Live With

they’re tryna find us like we’re hidden
squinting 
lifting up under the rugs the cupboards were swinging in the kitchen
i whispered so quiet you couldn’t have listened 
i missed this
strange the pain stain the trinket tingeing in the kiss it glistened
as if illicit 
i gripped it
wished for wishes

that night at dinner they served spring chickens
her cheeks ring in the distance i phoned 
hated myself cos I’m the only one who knows
i know no different i showed her home 
sticking to my suit like ringlets 
rode on my own like my feet meeting the stirrups
it’s Christmas
The Band Played The Pogues

the stand swayed 
i could’ve been cracking the window if I groaned

frenetic horses in the snow reposed
I slowed
thought about the thaw before I froze 
i go alone but can’t leave her
sometimes it’s like she keeps us
until i see her. 

a trunk of sunlight sat like a staff on the heater reader
i freeze up

The Band Played The Pogues /// Dylantheinfamous

Saints Are Hard To Live With

summer hung
keep me where i keep you
dulling to your colour but i’ll love you when i leave you
buffer when you’d want us
wonder when the weed due
shudder under covers i was coming when your key skewed

you rung me i was somewhere where i’d see you
punching cupboards when i’m running what i been through
hold me like a hymn sheet
quote me like a creed
put your hope inside my mystery i’ll own you like a dream

hold my hand let me show you how i seep
loam in the groove keep the omen in the shoe
mum was in her home i had to open in the room
i was showing her i’m sober know i’m smoking when i move

o2 OF show holdin it with hue
couldn’t even toke it estr told us what to do
i was in the hovel prodding offal in my loom
sun make it stink stick lobbing at the moon

fly walk the horse eye watch me as i brood
snake eat itself ouroboros on the food
dog collar mood i got your name all on the body
wanna save it all for me until you saying that you’re sorry prolly

felt better then i felt worse
held heaven then i held hers
witnessed all in the spool cyclical
wound bound welling shepherd of my hell herds

spit peppering the stairs
i was stepping on the rest more a leather Fred Astaire
legging it to lairs to get set into her wares
she was waiting at the station like an ember in a chair

last train
we bled west
the madman sings and babes wrench necks
i put her in a pocket with a pebble from my stretch
and it’s like i’m there now and it’s like i never left

my own tears tethered to my head
get them in the flesh when i’m staring in the thames
back to the pad put the message to the test
it was back to the back when i’d tell it to the guests

so i’d write em 
pritt stick dry em to the gables
a safe move cos no way a neighbour could erase you
it was me at mill pond spraying paint all on the harling
they were gone by the morn we were parking

the next day parting in the black cab
london humming something saw my father in a flashback
woke up in soho magic cast the hash pack
wrapping ammi backwards on the tube i passed my mans flat

and sank betwixt sticks we were freeing us
in drugs and fat fields where we’d speak no cohesiveness
cabbage hill held the seams in us
true saw the view so huge it felt meaningless

summer hung
keep me where i keep you
dulling to your colour but i’ll love you when i leave you
buffer when you’d want us
wander when the weed due
shudder under covers i was coming when your key skewed

you rung me i was somewhere where i’d see you

Sheep /// Dylantheinfamous

Saints Are Hard To Live With

house made a paper had to dance in a harness
dents in the dry wall. paths in the carpets
boxes with gods in. scars where he harmed us
i had to hide it

in the park where I shot air 
we wore him like collars 
clogged my all into the court and saw my teacher hit his dog there
a plane cuts a sky silently 
i coughed smog and stared
i'm not there. polishing a prayer

flaking paint 
the endless cigarette chase 
the bait awaits away in his breaks
satiate
the brigade takes his baby away as if a parade
in the wing she gave an ashtray of clay
with a hand written name 

smoke billows 
i live in my way. 
deracinated or made it I changed
didn’t think that this would take
i was figurine stiff front row in the wake 
i won’t be late. 

soldier stood wooden 
rapper lose it proof of para troopers 
flew a flank of ruperts 
had em shooting so I ally ooped it
sank a crew up in that shabby music stu i drank my use in
jay spinning back like i had the blueprints

mapped out
bedlam in the mad house
silent when in central
restless when a dad’s round
somewhere in the country
devil’s sing a man down. 
somewhere in the country 
heaven is a hand out. 

and they speak about money so i know they not got it 
why you weighing my hand out? 
town like a cold war
every man I know warped. 
the wind made the sand howl. 
or scowl

Glower /// Dylantheinfamous

Saints Are Hard To Live With

i was a hound in the city 
thought i couldn’t see you there
but i found you in the city  
so i hang on every end of every crown of hair 

but i was crowned in my village 
knew i couldn’t keep you there 
but i took you to my village 
and you waited at the station like an ember in a chair

in the parish 
down to the old town
i knew i wouldn’t need you there 
till i did and i split like i’ve known no bounds 

i was a hound in the city
knew i couldn’t see you there
but i found you in the city   
so i walked to the village from trafalgar square 

i was a clown in the city 
hung looking so fine 
when you’re down in the city 
you can pay me no mind

The Hound

Saints Are Hard To Live With

i miss a different you  
i was dwindling like a candle in your handsome living room aloof  
wax bones rest on the fender she would stand and stare in the nude  
set my shadow loose 
fire flickered on her body bobbing like some horrid flute  

coughing my truths at the table like a respectable guest  
white lies pepper the spreads  
i’d sing a pillar into a minaret for them again  
winters in bed like i ever told her instead she was pecking my colder folded shoulder  
i rolled over  

to somehow show her i know what’s what  
lucid dreams fucking you in my sleep 
you were you but i wasn’t me at least it seemed  
Baldwin grins in another country  
humming breeze in heat 
trees creak and bubble i freeze in my sheets  
cracked i lost it  

but when you dropping looms? soon  
hollow coffin i fashioned it from my roots  
i was polishing shoes 
painting acres 
electricians mate 
waste removal crew member 
minding manors 
too polite to you in truth  

time chews the bloom  
hydrangeas in June  
my limit grew  
you gifted me your news like i wasn’t marooned  
blue cocoon  
violet sky i’d shoot at the moon  
hit village spittoons  
hidden pictures of you imbue  
all the shit we didn’t do  
i shivered in my shitty suit  

i missed a different you  
and that’s fine i promise  

and that’s fine i promise and i mean it  
cos i love you and i want you to succeed but i won’t see it

Minding Manors /// YUNGMORPHEUS

Saints Are Hard To Live With

L.A. decays  
i’m late 
she left but her trace had stayed  
heavier than heaven on a waif's plate  
we ate she came i changed  
chase planes  
cigarettes sent to her window in rain  
late train  
see her shadow like a stray  

clay brain  
remains in the grains of the knackered ash tray  
day dreams 
hands break the face  
strange parades  
beckon in the clipper flame  
the flint’ll flicker i fidget and fade  
pretty cage  
  
humming streets meet  
lovers wonder where london leads  
receipts 
shit coffee 
moddy-coddled art scene teens  

sheep bleat  
i mean preach  
younger than the sum of their factory’s steam 
keys in cubicles 
the baggy trapped in the zipper of the dickie jeans  
slabs of meat heat like oxford street concrete  
souls mould in ai we OP OTT TTFN G2G
she BRB  

burnt sheets  
cogs whirring in my sleep  
said she love me cos i fucked her like a machine  
she plead why’d i try to try?
life tore us 
girls hide daughters  
boys find porn till eyes water  
paupers with mortgages  
rich wounds fit to fill a fortune in  
awful porcelain ornaments  

ornate drapes in the council flat  
generations stayed we dying on this island it’s no alcatraz  
only shackles found my dad  
bodies bending backwards to the sound of cash  
i let the penny drop 
on beat 
need the thou for that tho really  

the city will sleep and ima see it
leave them like a landslide hold you like a secret 
i mean it. 
bang the gavel at my own hearing  
no plans no hands she had go steer it

L.A. Decays /// Prod. Argov

Saints Are Hard To Live With

mum raised son  
dad used to beat us  
wouldn’t know the man’s face his hands never leave us  

pleas hung to the clothes as i wrote this in the blem smoke  
granny had the pall mall in court for crescendos  

prerecorded testimony videos  
those pigs in a home 
names in news papers  
drop kicked toddler  
aunts wouldn’t ask  
glass broke didn’t bottle up  

we all almost offed it  
change with the surname  
looms. weave taking us from urban to urbane  
i promise  
but never known a home that could’ve kept me  
ghost town house under bedsheets  

kin kiss the cold shoulder note it house the cul-de-sac  
then i met Flori how the wind met the bowler hat  
thanked her father with a promise to my nike shoe  
pauper in the formal till she told me wear his fine suit  

i could’ve cried through  
i think of mine too  
and wonder does he miss me  
but he is me

The Wind & The Bowler Hat /// Dylantheinfamous

001
artwork by HUEDAGOD.
@sloppycereal

He came out of thin air. Plucked from a vision 
Darkness arrived n he succumbed in an instant.
The son of the system. Immortal yet ephemeral 
Chemicals can end it all. Turn the grey to an emerald. 
It’s too simple if seminal’s digestible. 
Don’t mind the peers making spectacles of genitals. 
Forget the present but reject it when the heavens call. 
Make you question all you are then vanish i'm inspector Goole 

Actions imply that he loves the regret
Suffering less when the skunks bunned and up in his chest. 
Stash under the bed. Above are the puddles of sweat. 
Transcendent but still stuck in the mesh  

 Write it off as taradiddle
Back in the shack n crippled 
Carrying sacrificial 
Lambs like a pack of gristle 

Scapegoats as he changes into plain clothes. 
Stay low. Dodging Bobbies in this rain coat. 

To mask the halo that only he can recognise 
Methodise dimensions from the present to the second life 
Take to heaven skies excavate and televise. 
Let the masses see the barren land they were set to find. 

Every second’s like certain eternity. 
Been to hell and back strapped with burns to the third degree
Lurch to emergency
Then murmur in surgery 
Telling tales of the mishaps of purgatory 

Even the vermin bleed.
N cry to the cosmos 
this life in a lost plot 
is trite till the clock stops. 

Still he survives wading his way through monotony. 
The phantom of a man trapped in the forgotten prophecy 

looms

lo and behold /// graflab

shouts to graflab.
artwork by HUEDAGOD.
@sloppycereal

Let time hold your hand. shimmy till the sun sets. 
clock hands leave you undressed  
no need to worry bout slipping off that sun dress,
or your dancing shoes.
Stretch and start to move 
‘After you’

Lord knows he’s chivalrous 
But never hesitates to take your innocence. 
Shit, I was still a kid.  Playing piggy in the middle watching cartoons
And giggling. 
Too small to see where the mirror is 
Daddy kicked him in the ribs again. 
The image flickers when Im slipping into bed 
 
Still i'm waltzing in each of the seasons. 
Tryna supersede these demons 
please believe it. 

No home -  a nomad
Slow growth till bones snap. 
So trapped but won’t crack 
Cuz time waits for no man. 

But we wait for him to take away our life force 
n strip us of the things that we fight for. 

Time heals all he also assassinates 
Can he die? What would it have to take?
Can time kill time itself? 
I guess we all kill time when it’s time to melt. x2

is/was /// graflab

shouts to nine.two.
recording, mixing and mastering by Musicli @ Old Bill Studios.
artwork by HUEDAGOD.
@nine-two
@iammusicli
@sloppycereal

Stuck in the seams of the underachieved.
He run amuck at the scene just for something to be.
Schmucks judge from the meet... tick the meter… time is running out. 
From a place of fuck abouts. Young’ns running sucking snouts.
Ducking when mothers out. 
Sons(suns) are just above the clouds.
Getting lifted. Necking spirits. So hedonistic.
I said I did it, on more than one occasion.
The force of such a statement got my core always aching… 
See I'm dropping bits of me!
Ripped beneath the skin, then slipped within the soliloquies. 
Potent as an acid flash back. Ever had that?
Got you crawling through that cat flap.
Memories ransacked. 
I’ve seen the purple skies… the lie that is validity. 
The whiteness of the eyes in the mind that lost rigidity 
Bending till it snaps again. 
Spending till i'm trapped again. 
Stacking pennies to grab a 20s no plan of any man could ever be anything less than heavenly. 
Why can’t you let him be? 
The thought is wishful. 
Dreams? He got a fist full. 
It don’t mean piss all since I signed with my initials
but now I think of it, don’t remember if I had the choice. 
Forced into existence got me thinking its plan deployed.
He said goodbye to the dreams. Revised and "achieved"
and what a waste it was waking up to die in his sleep. 
This life is what you like it to be.



conscription /// nine.two

shouts to shru and graflab.
recorded, mixed and mastered by musicli @ old bill studios. 
artwork by HUEDAGOD.
@shrushru
@iammusicli
@graflab
@sloppycereal

(looms.)

Yet again forgetting who I’m meant to be. 
Blame the evergreen presented as the remedy. 
On the 7th day he would always set the scene. 
Getting waved till the 7 seas came a calling.

He waits to meet the mariner upon a thousand rocks. 
Look him in the eye and ignore the albatross.
Presence deafening as the sounds of god.  
The whispers and murmurs break waves and shatter docks. 

Sending shocks through the planet; cracking at the granite.
The multi-story plazas where visits are a habit. 
It swallowed every juice bar and Hollister shop...
Leaving the temple burnt down like Solomon’s was. 

Said before how he’s walking at the deep end. 
Ironic how he’s far from only getting his feet wet.
He wept till the heavens ripped. Time to reminisce 
On the emptiness. His nemesis and so... 

(hook)

Choose to ignore the regrets in hindsight.
Oh how the time flies. X2
People spend their lives tryna clip its wings. X2

(shru)

The dragon is teething. Dragging and heaving. 
Adam and eve caught under blankets and screaming.
Adamant breathing as he planted the seed...
Laughing as the snake falls far from the tree.

What we'd sell, fell trees, burn heaven, freeze hell. 
To turn lights low and be held where she dwells. 
These tales I did not receive often from the doctor reads...
Conquer dreams without the help of bongs of weed. 

To nullify the stubborn mind as i'm off to sleep
or wheeze cough and sneeze for three sodding weeks. 
Stay where the trap plays. The blade in the ashtray.
Remain unscathed the numb age where we lack faith. 

Bars are tended. Pills after breakfast. 
Feel half as pregnant just chill nah forget it. 
These days feeling like a real Armageddon.
I guess the rebels die when they feel fathers presence. 

(hook)


as it used to be ft. shru ///  graflab

shouts to nine.two.
recording, mixing and mastering by Musicli @ Old Bill Studios.
artwork by HUEDAGOD.

@nine-two
@iammusicli
@sloppycereal

Gazing at the present in the past. 
Wonder if forever could ever last. It’s getting dark. 
Floating home n the street lights are flickering. 
Head full of bars and a frame slowly withering. 
Walk light feet tickling the bitumen
The sinners sitting covered in his cynicism shivering. 
Hence the heated discussions to warm his hands again. 
Frost bites the fingers still it’s easier to grab the pen
Than it is get up off his lard arse.  
To stand up and standoff with a hard stance. 
Half-hearted efforts; credence the clever ruse. 
If you choose not to listen you’d never know that you never knew. 

I wrote this for you x2
Don’t you know I wrote this for you?
I guess not. 

Still the ink dries quicker than he jots it down. 
Boulders on his shoulder still he’s colder when they’re not around. 
Forgotten grounds are where the memories are left… better blame the botanist 
For the way makes them hostages, and this rotting esophagus.
Clocking the obvious but what time is it? 
Now he’s got a mic to grip he’s silencing the sirens n the like that tried to stifle him. 
Fruits of his labor ripening; eyes widen at the sight of it still. 
Back on track like rehabilitation. 
Still a heathen in the making 
Dreams of demons in the basement again. 
Grotesque figures, bodies all contorted. 
Swam inside my thoughts till im forced to wanna forfeit. 

4feit /// nine.two

artwork by HUEDAGOD.
@sloppycereal

word to Jean Michel Basquiat. 

The first impression you're boxed within.
If I'm worth redemption I've got to sin.
all the situations I've got us in, 
Now we play fight in the apocalypse.

Hop scotching on monuments.
Stubborn as the skyline,
That splits and rips to fractals in the centre of the minds eye.
Night skies rejected for prime time 
Switch on and switch off as it flies by 
Tick tock the game goes on but you won't watch on the sideline. 

Flames licking the wing span, 
Saliva singeing memories.
Baring scars. Tearing hearts, ventricles dropped on cemeteries. 

Bombs away. You've got to stay.
Forgotten days and solemn ways.
Yeah I'm still the same guy... Still Weary of the cost of change.
While the lost shot rocking costly chains, 
guess the blocks hot but the frost remains. 

Gotta change the scenery.
Rolling hills over made machinery. 

At my boldest I'm innocuous. Blindfolded in the metropolis, 
I did the jitterbug till I split the rug 
And danced before the populous.

Cavorting till the raucous stopped, and they eventually conformed and rocked.
Swaying side to side, like pendulums placed before the gods.

So maybe we are programmed...
Still I'd switch the channel. 
And If it's a stream we're rowing down I need to find a different paddle.

One without these holes in.

dour [spoken]

http://bit.ly/2iVBUIY

shouts to m a n n y .
mixed and mastered by musicli @ old bill studios. 
artwork by HUEDAGOD.
@mannypeace
@iammusicli
@sloppycereal

He be lifted on his ones again. 
Love the lack of light; an appetite for when the sun descends. 
Flash back to swearing he’d never be one of them. 
If you hate the now by default do you love the end?
 
It's fucked up that dumb luck got him this far. 
Cold solders quick march living to be discharged. 
Kids laughed all bathing in their naivety. 
Save face and raise the front that few have seen beneath. 

Philosophize in private; let the pastor preach
looms. up on a m a n n y beat. That’s a banger guaranteed.
Manic dreams. Fallacies and catastrophes
Hack the seams of reality. Grab the Haberdashery.

"Damn it he’s gotta hiding inside the higher plain?"
Lack of friendly memories. It’s time to let the mind erase. 
Like he ever could command it. Heart’s the darkest. 
She laughed n ate it regardless without the garnish. 

Starving artist. Need to be eating his words
Cos they equate to the pay that he be seeking in verse. 
See that’s an argument he never willing to instigate. 
But push comes to shove and scraps occupy the dinner plate. 

Sick of love... Sick of trust... Sick of fate.  
Sick of time - he ain’t itching to grip a Zimmer frame.
Searching for nirvana... nah nevermind. 
Down n out getting high. Clown about with pennywise.

p e n n y w i s e /// m a n n y . (video: http://bit.ly/2iVBUIY)

http://bit.ly/2iVA6Qm
http://bit.ly/2iVA6Qm
http://bit.ly/2iVA6Qm
http://bit.ly/2iVA6Qm

shouts to trngrsk.
recorded, mixed and mastered by musicli @ Old Bill Studios.
artwork by HUEDAGOD.
@trngrsk
@iammusicli
@sloppycereal

Blacking out from white light. All is grey in hindsight.
Colours of the zeitgeist –pen and pad defines time.
Looms in the loops thinking maybe he might write.
‘Instead of righting wrongs; the mic is on in the limelight’.
Wrapped in rays. Blankest face at the soirée.
Eyes lit alone penning everything he can’t say.
The reflection granted entry to the furnace. 
Saw the token bones in a broken home – unfurnished.
Overdosed on sober tones… and in earnest
I been working. At least I’m feeling like it anyways.
Toys out the pram. Voices echoing; ‘for heaven’s sake.’
Featherweight benevolent weapon setting to detonate.  
n wreck the place with sarcasm and the tainted wit
He paints on his alias quick. The same as this. 
Paced it now the jaded kid spits pink pigments.
Tongue tied. Now we know why they told him to shrink figments.

shrink /// trngrsk (video: http://bit.ly/2iVA6Qm)

soultapes 'vol. 1' compilation, out now. 
check it @ https://soultapes.bandcamp.com/album/vol-1-stpr006

much love to all the artists that made this tape possible and to the fans for diggin our shit, happy summer

@bagul @capriisun-inuits @chdy @clbrks @corless @ekanabeats @erotnas @futurebeats14 @goodmamamama @hurlumdk @hank-hiller @illiteratebeats @jasperinoo @jarjarjr @jay-alpha-1 @kaijuloops @kiezin @kleftobeats @languidlooms @mrverbzyy @murkoziga @navigate1 @new_colour @noexnotonearth-1 @ogbloops @rhakimali @roy-33 @sol-uk @tkdwn @tomcbumpz @velvetiansky @whoyouwhoyew @xhighkid @xxxxxnothing

@blackfuckingnoise 
@illernature-records
@yogocoprecords

Mixed by Ben Hardie

anime pillow

featuring @languidlooms
produced by @tomcbumpz
artwork by HUE - @sloppycereal

first single from my upcoming ep "radiant"

enjoy :)

radiant

foibles (feat. looms.) (prod. tomcbumpz)

Me, Myself And I (ft. looms.)

fantompower on beat.
recorded, mixed and mastered by musicli @ Old Bill Studios.
artwork by HUE.

@fantompower
@iammusicli
@sloppycereal

gritting teeth. the sinner sleeps in novocaine.
pigment leaks, hidden cheeks from the focused flames.
frozen frame in her knowing gaze
to most, I’ve been closed off since the open day. 

too busy whipping dreams up for din dins.
housemates pissy he never clean up the kitchen. 
ditch the dishes to switch for swishes. 
courting on the court he be spitting to ya mrs. 

red handed - stigmata on the lords day 
lumber home tail dragging on the walkway. 
he only ever ate the gourmet in poor taste. 
now he gnaws on the corpse till the jaw aches. 

the old me. sold sleep from the dealer. 
cold feet, the soul weeps. need a healer.
i can be the feature... she can be the star for sure. 
in her golden fleece, it’s me her and the argonauts.

i'll be jason (a song for she) /// fantompower

http://bit.ly/2ktz25B

prod. by south.vibe 
recorded, mixed and mastered by musicli at Old Bill Studios.
artwork by HUE.

@southvb
@iammusicli
@sloppycereal

shifting sands and shrinking plans
in these injured hands; kick the crabs in the bucket. 
happy enough in the shack, slacking and slumped in his habits
gagging to covet trapped in a parish of puppets...
fuck it. 
this ain't nothing but a test
lover running for the best, covers flooding on the chest. 
sullen and depressed 
words woven just to wipe away the woe... to find the face.
he cried for days still, 

silent sneers chime in titans ears 
and kids still grapple with the shadows in their bunk beds.
the sands flow like rivers until the sun sets. 
the sands flow like rivers until the sun rests. 
'nough stress as the clock face screams
so we puff cest for the lost day dreams, like...

with this song he put the ruby to the lip. 
tongue tied lucy on the tip. 
dumb fights, mum cried, lucy in the whip. 
apple of the eye and now he chewing on the pip. 

every day same old shit different day now.
all the grey clouds stay; shamed as rain pounds. 
chained down by fate paved since the stained gown. 

it's february again.

f e b r u a r y    a g a i n  /// south.vibe (video: http://bit.ly/2ktz25B)

this ones been ageing in the cask for a while. triple distilled darkness from one of the most talented wordsmiths i've ever heard. 

@languidlooms

video: http://bit.ly/ahwell

ah well ft. looms.

nine.two on the beats.
artwork by HUE.
recorded, mixed and mastered by musicli @ old bill studios.

@ninetwobeats
@sloppycereal
@iammusicli

let the smoke dance pirouette in suns. 
he been a mess, given cess sitting kept in lungs. 
while the sinner wept and dribbled debt upon a page of a4
solemn days and shade like what is it we’re made for? 

remember when we’d meet and keep it illicit. 
speaking logistics, her day and keeping me in it. 
needed to live it just to get to see the chosen path for he 
who bleeds the broken artistry, haemoglobin harmonies 

and hypertension tetra chords drop out the vocal. 
float like the boats out in Constantinople. 
not nows for know-alls. time speaks of honesty
In tones dry of modesty. throttling the prodigies

clobbering the righteous. never understood
so they colonized the island with weapons for woods. 
Embedded in the bush he found hope in himself 
and wrote notes soaked in oaths I hope nobody tells.

walks /// nine.two

@languidlooms <--- the most languid
@dylantheinfamous <--- one of the illest producers around
@estrestr <--- thx for the art nigga

we be dreamin..

spotify!

languid.oceans - speed racer [obijuan x looms.]

b side from the official single release of february again - available on all streaming services. 

prod. by dylan.porter.
recorded, mixed and mastered by Musicli at old bill studios.
artwork by HUE.

@dylanportermusic
@iammusicli
@sloppycereal

yeah he might have been a minute. 
been at high seas with the spirits.
never been about the now
for that moment he was living in it. 

through ice and the snow, 
deciphering codes by the tide in a boat
he’d rhyme to the chime of the coast in the night 
in the night shining like lights residing in his bones.

and it flickers with the highs and the lows.
mimicking the sighs and the moans. 
now he fidgeting inside of these clothes. 
black suit, white shirt, leather shoes 
hit the promenade, drumming out depressive grooves. 

somehow coping with change, 
broken away from the fam then he awoke at the wake. 
nobody prayed like he did. he would mean it. 
we only beseeched it and how he’s bout to meet with,

now he bout to meet with, everything he claimed was true. 
what if everything he claimed was true? 
this a game that we play where we’re made to lose
maybe we create the truth. x2
now higher than the planes you used to fly. 
grandfather i’ve only been retaining the laughs. 
it’s not the same with it only replaying in hearts. 

you echo through the cold corridors of this hot head. 
the old cobbled shores and their soft beds. 
my simple mind and its complex. 
the deep end that lost depth. 

these are the words that arrived, too late for crowd and too early for I. 
if anything.
if anything, I hope you see only this
and not the woes in which I once chose to sit. 

now you move how the angels move
and I prove to remain removed. 
but I know when I see the sun after it rains , it’s you. 
I hope everything you claimed was true. 

/languid looms.

thomson /// dylan.porter

mar out soon.

@ninetwobeats on the cut 
@sloppycereal on the artwork 
mixed and mastered by @nohidea
recorded at @estrestr's yard

black sea /// nine.two

out of innards
insidetheshed.net
languidlooms.net
@turquoisecrown
@alphapup

brains /// turquoise crown

out of innards
insidetheshed.net
languidlooms.net
@elutriate
@alphapup

intestine /// elutriate

recipe - https://bit.ly/2ULi2Hr

out of innards
www.insidetheshed.net
@ninetwobeats

saw the truth lying in the lies. fire finding ice. 
residing in the eyes of the two who grew too tied like a noose do.
it moved you. sumn like the voodoo 
the yute threw a tantrum, ranting to the dry wall. 
the man stands now hands hanging from arrival. 
deny the denial. tear for a tear. 
oh he had a sick fear of the fear now he here but uhh…
play it back now he gone again. 
lace a pack now we on the mend. 
she on the bed. he was on the edge 
we were lopping heads seeing orange reds.  
still got her specks on the ledge.
and her perfume; donning his golden fleece. 
shit’s looking more bronze in these colder scenes. 
holding heat in the form of hearts. 
it’s all a dance - the performance of the past
in the present. ever together and apart 
met the severance again he meant tether n the mast   
never them two? the most malevolent of arts
with the devil in the palm, calm. he like mwah

liver /// nine.two (recipe @ https://bit.ly/2ULi2Hr)

look here - bit.ly/2UT5m1e

out of innards.
produced by @ajmwsounds

black river. 
same shade as the ticker.
ache a day late -  had to give up. 
frame laid to waste; map the mirror. coasting. 
floating 
but still sitting stiffer than his omens. of course. 
the kiddy didn’t listen when she told him that he held the key. 
said that wealth was he…
they’d melt L’s with the held hells their shells would heave. 
dwelled well on the one now there’s worlds between. 
fell as trees with the roots tied. 
and tonight the sun saw their youth through and fruit fried. 
yeah see you soon... too soon but it’s too right 
new you and a new i -  new moon in a new sky. 
new highs in the same low. 
“the grass greener where you ain’t though” 
bark the demons on the way home. 
hard to keep em in at bay bro. 
darkened be the halo. 
he only part the sea to lay slow.

ticker /// AJMW (look here - bit.ly/2UT5m1e)

ENTER - https://bit.ly/2Vb0rvY

out of innards
www.insidetheshed.net
@sweetswex

light deliver me. if I die, live as me. 
hitting highs - think he see the lows in his abode with high precision 
he denying woe and oh, the sight define the most.  
how and why to cope? how am I to know?
“I dunno, he might’ve though.”
“but why he write as so?”
shyer shire flow. no road but he slip up. 
dead the whip - let It flip up. 
met the hiccups and couldn’t stomach shit. 
funny tummy rubbing it. 
something under skin- nothing over walls. 
numbing up a bit - mustn’t show at all. 
grow and know the fall, so we only call. 
knowing all he drooling out’ll now amount to more than storage for the wall. 
audible awe of all
taught to crawl we had to stand.
Mother at the hand in her grandness now. 
hope she hands it down. 
come in handy now. 
said his Mother at the hand in her grandness now. 
hope she hands it down. 
come in handy now.

tummy /// SWEX (ENTER: bit.ly/2Vb0rvY)

out of innards
insidetheshed.net
languidlooms.net
@obijuanshinobii
@alphapup

lung /// Obijuan

:) 
2003 by @intelpentium: https://soundcloud.com/intelpentium/2003-tape

see his features in the reams the sheet seem stainless. 
revealing the dreams of the meek maven 
seen cream chasing like the fiends freebasing.
proceeding equally as vagrant. change places, mad hat.
grieved in glad rag. queen relieved agent 
lost his compass like retired freemasons. he seemed elated 
facing the flaws, raw teeth. clean pavements. 
he keep pacing… waiting. same street. say cheese 
we paint HD where the frame be 
and write the kind of ice that gave hades a brain freeze. 
chill. he change teams and seen light in grave deep digs.
dilla made me but true its nay to a praise be. 
devil in him yet he heaven living. guess he 
set to be the angel made make a trip. 
know the ledge. know the rest. Stay away from it. 
great saint to atheist. Ah please. placate the kid 
with the grade. he seem wiser, the wallet seams seem tighter. 
been nicer. 
creed writer deem the dream fine enough to suit.
true he need to keep the neat climb up. 
crunch numbers. 
flash cash. green visor
didn’t see shit. 
pick it like pete piper

greenfield ((pentium flip))

word to ce.lls
track 7 of 9 // bow. (private tape)
request access: insidetheshed.net

stut.ter

2016. 
1 of 9 // bow. (private tape) 
request access: insidetheshed.net 
feat. @atlas @tomcbumpz | artwork by HUE @sloppycereal

bittersweet shimmy (feat. atlas) /// tomcbumpz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbbDJzs2PNQ
@dylantheinfamous
art by @estrestr


but we dying anyways? rest heavy. wide awake lying. high heaven in her hands 
holding broke knuckles bandaged. clasping arms. 
the same palms brand the damage he masked. rapping at the wall 
she said we living art they tryna hang us at the walls
hadn’t managed. hacked the canvas. fontana shit. 
ring cracking at her call. no signal in this parish kid they tapped n all.
small days. no ball games signs prised up off walkways with wall paint. 
woven over houses fit to kick the can in. 
life time kicking back couldn’t kick the habit. 
this shit was handed. 
crooked crooked finger in its point. 
sitting missing joints. dave allen 
quipping. see the victor in the victim no matter who did or didn’t it’s in the inner vision is it not? 
don’t answer that. he saving the fam with the very few who take his hand and don’t shake it.
her stare punctuate the statements that he splaying up and jab at.
the school boy lab rat. mad hat. change places. 
aching hands had made him able to stand gracious. see
a woman had to made him a man

looms.

Pinned to spotlight

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