Dry Cycle

Lyrics:

He was hung from his clothes
And the crowd guts his throne.
No end.
Love’s too warm.
No God…

He’s my clone, pulled from the echoes alone.
He will fool no one.
(Aw shit)

He was hung, holding a gun to his head.
And the crowd sang every song he penned.

He was a drunk. Everyone loved to pretend
He was their friend, idol, their only trend.

He was hung, holding a gun to his head.
As the crowd read every song he said.

It was cool just to believe in the thread.
But I can’t stay real, if to impress.

But I can, move in a circle instead.
Make him sing my trend, no open ends.

V1:

Nothing great, nothing fake, nothing aimless-
Your fate tucked deep into my crushed thorax.
Plucked like a fiddle, rusted and famous-
Y’all pinch a golden coat chipped to Rorschasch.
Vulture-ticks Eschered thin; time is restless-
Pace the suede rug for praise from my legend.
Stencil my dreams with actionless peeving-your
Feet prance my liver. Baste my Anima.
Back before industry pirated Jesus,
Back before Musk, before shuttered-blind season,
I had a future - gold reputation.
Teachers who knew that I’d stand tall, embrace it.
Sooner to fame, than recluse back to Mason.
Temper my spoils. Act like a craven, or
Narcissus layman. Using persuasive
Charm to evade their tall expectations
Riding those coattails. Lawyer’s son silver
Tongue plugging pockmarks - Freudian painting.
I’d build a statue the world would adapt to-a
Rebel in Youth, Hand-Luked into dragon.
Scribe to the moon the effigy’s jazz-blues.
Mime a Laurette, Slam scales over bad news.
Bankrupt this Trust-Funded Kid retroactive.
Fail the world twice before he impacts it.
Gorge all his praise and never surpass it.
All things decay - let epochs collapse the
Flakes of a slacker into his axis.
Here raps the fist of Punks into practice.

(Intro to V2):

Water beats fire, fire beats frozen.
Here feasts the tired back to a quotient.
Bellied-up Beatle, Lennon-turned still.
Here Comes the Sun scaled with June Paik stilts:

V2:

Tip of an iceberg punctures his vain - the
Cold-blooded Kid screams hymns through decays. Your
Ragdoll-kissed skid marked-memory lane draws
Rebels tomorrow to call to the rain.
Thought my degree would be something to praise-to
Anchor my bedded honor to Saints.
Why am I helpless? Who feels my pain?
Why is my opus rusted in chains?
Why kill the Kid that loved me in concept?
One who built dreams from character content?
Turning the page from the bastard I felt like:
Rebel gets high and blinds out the daylight.
Blinds out the world, rests furled in dad’s struggle-
Trickling my spoils down to our chuckles.
Crooning him still with an oath of starvation:
Artists are pure where the art is vacation.
Fantasy baked in the Ant Mill relation-
Boy meets the world, let the white light embrace him.
Boy meets his icon, old road paved with (new) fables, the
Frail, quiet hands reaching up from the Hades
Quiet my charms, as the past ricochets in my-
Brain, in my navel gazes, in its changes.
Here lies my grave, stone-slain grown to action,
Conjures these ghosts to turn my page - “traction.”
Father relaxed. Menacing eyes,
The hydra embraced me. Gold doesn’t age, it don’t-
Fill me with daisies- won’t freeform adapt to the-
Skills of the pagan-or pilloried kings when they’re
Sniffing the pavement-Your feet plant the privilege-
Sweep me to Graceland and lose me to fame before
Dreams flood complacence over my head. I be-
Levied I was special, yet time’s but an echo-
My “rebel” is mine. Divine was the fellow who-
Kneaded his shrine a naive complexion.

Fire beats water when icing your dollar.
Kiss the wheel breaking scales on my collar-
Back to your honor. Ring me again.
Live for the moments you dream past my end.

Statue of Hydra, statue of gold,
Molded with crisis ringing its pulse, it
Haunts me to action. Haunts me to fold, its
Legacy basks, yet stillness is bold.

Revenge too Warm (Dry Cycles Version)

It's Just Me.

Captain Of Industry

You Lied

Mistakes (How Low?)

I'll link the music videos here in order of latest release:

Computer Symphony:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_KjMspQlaY

Cut off the Head:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14BCBOdYxQw

Add the Heart:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUn14F57TaE

Computer Symphony

Cut Off The Head

Add The Heart

I live in a world where all coffee mugs read backwards.

Nick Zazove

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