Lyrics: Tap-hole by Michael Conti Monday, October 26, 2020 [For immediate release into the public domain]
You play the victim you lay it so well no one sees All of the hell you are burning in me Personifications placate playmate primes
They lie to your face that they care for your mind Your world turns so gray when you don’t get your way But the sky starts to say of its swan song today
You’re digging for gold but you’re coming up dry You want to get high but not understand why When will the piper again burst and sing?
And when will we ring the bells like a king? How many times must I fall from the sky? When your cryptoamnesia just makes you a spy
Judgement day. Judgement day. Go away
Under the porch she is covered with dirt Happy as concert while she girts with her flirt Divers are digging deep down and for miles and miles
Bases of trials that’s so vile and are sold with a smile Walk with me once again out of the underworld The old world. The new world. The third world. The freedom world
[Bridge]
Now we are flying so high in the sky again Then to the dinner Italia prepared for friends Auspicious and rare like the lives that we live
Preparing to force all the beast to forgive Taking a last look before I’m no more Dawning my horns then I fall through a door
You thought that I was on the stage to shred But I assure you I’m already dead
Judgement day. Judgement day. Go away. Some other day
Anathema Michael Conti 8/21/2020 at 10:52 AM EDT [For immediate release into the public domain]
Anathema we jaunt upon the Earth We fritter life and death from out birth With mirth our foolscap and worth Is dearth and shallowly unearthed The sonatina sozzled spurious And furiously furled the dreaming world Twirled and swirled and curled a golden pearl Exasperating and intelligently burled
I built a time machine with some stones in the yard Now I can’t get back and the grass is all chard
The time between the interregnum A jitney hasted and frowned at a crumb The illusion is sincere and it’s me The dreamer sees and conceives reality Grandiloquence and with much pomp Circumstantial dipsomaniacs’ romp Ax stack wax stash a maniac The trolls contrived to make the people whack
I built a time machine with some stones in the yard Now I can’t get back and the grass is all chard I piled them up before they started to float I left a note. Here’s what I wrote:
Commonsensical adrift in the monsoon It’s a boon for the the dunes upon the moon If I ever take you for a joy ride The grawlixes will be tied and dyed
I built a time machine with some stones in the yard Now I can’t get back and the grass is all chard I piled them up before they started to float I left a note. Here’s what I wrote: I built a time machine and now I can’t get back I’m just a rhyme. I’m just a ghost of a crime
