Aesop Rock - Tomorrow Morning | Текст песни

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• Aesop Rock
• Tomorrow Morning

these are the unregulated rabbit holes, barrack homes and taverns built for devil's acre
opium enthusiasts and baritones, marigold - the garish allure of the burning barbary,
underbelly born of 40 thieves in whorish harmony, hammering for the dark and
heartless, harpy, shark and harlot argue breathing room, do not let the arson jeeper
creeper you, if we elect the scenic route see it as greener grasses, like morphine after
snatch help you forget diseases matter, not to mention 15 cents for either weakens
cheaper gamblers down for hell inside a melting pot, no one's ever melting they just yell
a lot, stab each other, drink and eat and belly-flop, Murder Point, your thoroughfare at
12 o'clock is hell and back, EMB to chinatown, kearny clashing cutters out the nether-
world, sydney ducks to pistol fuck the centerfold, every cellar iniquity, pretty killers and
pistol petes, might wake up with horses tearing at your limbs symmetrically

tomorrow morning when the wharf is finished warping, you will wash up on the shore and
wonder what was so alluring,

tomorrow evening when the leeches finish feeding, you will regret the ownership of an
aorta that is bleeding

before a later bay was calm, disreputable hangers on, would rumble for the hungry like
montgomery's little ghenghis khans, who plain as day would operate in holes where no
patrollers go, groggeries that host the most ignoble dog and pony show, francis of assisi
in his grave alone to roller-coast, his opus now a cove where all the lowest lows can
grow and grow, with no sign of a holy ghost, more the polar: horns and rosy cloven
toes, bunny-hop claims, fold and overthrow, gangland anchors hit the harbor down for
hangman, shuffle fifty two and slip the chew behind the fang-span, greenhorn, he just
wanna help his hammers harmonize, stowed in hell's cargo by the spark in those wells
fargo eyes, and famine wasn't featured in the pamphlet, neither were the cancers, camp
was smoking chimney, mantle, taxidermy antlers, now the sourdough is lifted out the
honeycombs of kitchens, satan out on broadway and pacific blowing kisses,

tomorrow morning when the wharf is finished warping, you will wash up on the shore and
wonder what was so alluring,

tomorrow evening when the leeches finish feeding, you will regret the ownership of an
aorta that is bleeding

40 winks, pissy at the grizzly, no lullaby, clark's point trollops off the docks to flood and
multiply, until a brilliant golden mother-load in the bank, hold up your drink, she said
between her legs that other gold's pink, sold it for cheap along the waterfront, wretched
little clusters push a fuss of smutty huffing plus some itching and discomfort... little
wonder you, in public for the buck, it's rugged, rusty cutter gut any cutty drunkard who
want it hellcat maggie, aggie, move to the music, she had learned to spoon pollution in a
climate pruned for losing, thousand more like her in the cow-yards moo-ing, ooo-wee,
beneath the brutal harvest moon and UV, note it's the very same foundation on which
you and yours sleep, layers of players over debaucherous troubadour speak, they puff
the pathogens and never let the humidors breath, that's why you grew up on stale
tobacco and juniper trees.

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