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Petrichor

from 183427106 LP by Grant Livesay

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Instrumental composed on December 9th, 2011.
Beat originally entitled "Main River".

lyrics

monochromatic flow (what) for the indigo angels (shut up)
i painted with a vast hand half-past the stroke of distraction
(why are you still asking questions?)
fraction of a clenched fist misprinting friction on a canvas
(punch a hole in the wall)
famished the grandfather in my grandmother's kitchen
(well, it's raining outside)
no longer chims chim cheree by the hour (we're not paying any attention)
and hour by hour charleston recedes to the sea
while the watercolors wave unto thee (you fuckers)

with all i’ve seen
and all whom i’ve been
cliché it seems yet i scream:
fuck you and your mans fuck you
fuck you and your friends fuck you
fuck you and your girls fuck you
fuck you and your whole wide world/fuck you and this whole wry world

they say wear your soul on your sleeve
so i wore hoodies all year long to cover up the brevity
my pink and un-inked biceps bore
the lore of young man yet unwritten
forever smitten
spittin’ krishna for the pigeons
eatin’ bojangles combos with vixens
listen, the flow is legendary
christopher, come back to me
we were cut of a cloth that calls for mending
from the tattoo of a needle and thread
on your wrist left handed poetics popping narcotics
goddammit we southern
and all up in your daughters
sippin’ on forties and reading john milton
paradise lost fool i found it in her dorm room
for a makeshift art porn shoot watching lucille bluth
and blasting mars volta “soothesayer”
in between shakespearean sonnets
preferably one-eighteen, turn the page, you got it
turn over, you know you go’n get it
skeet and skat for sex phonetics
skippity boop bow, shout out but don’t sing it
cocaine love, you know we done did it
erect explosion shameful
and all y’all haters go by the way of gravity’s rainbow

with all i’ve seen
and all whom i’ve been
cliché it seems yet i scream:
fuck you and your mans fuck you
fuck you and your friends fuck you
fuck you and your girls fuck you
fuck you and your whole wide world/fuck you and this whole wry world

(if the mouth is trust
but that shroud is a bluff
then the flowers are trussed
and if we’re loud enough
if we’re loud enough…)

what’d you do at nineteen? i had started drinking
and commenced a shadow’s of amn lan party throwback with my sibling hamid
hardest difficulty, perma-death no resurrection welcome to reality
and sure i tried being single
jeff recommended abstinence but there were lyrics to be written
do you feel me? the ones dancing in the rain certainly did
pain baptizing toner underneath their skin
slee we sure had hella summers
between your rollerblades and my sexcapades
or whatsoever these days they call ‘em
faux-artsy fodder for fecund penmanship
and far too many lagers, pardon:
next author is david foster wallace
darling let’s read infinite jest and talk about it
no joke not kidding can i get a bitch who is down
to wear hoodies and riposte poetry
in a mountain downpour over wine
or just a golden molson
nod to canada
and holla for my androgynous ovate valhalla
solemn persona as the public on my shoulder
grey as the sky when god’s cup runneth over

with all i’ve seen
and all whom i’ve been
cliché it seems yet i scream:
fuck you and your mans fuck you
fuck you and your friends fuck you
fuck you and your girl fuck you
fuck you and your whole wide world/fuck you and this whole wry world

(the clouds erupt…
the clouds erupt…
and as the clouds erupt…
and as the clouds erupt… )

credits

from 183427106 LP, released January 28, 2014

license

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tags

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Grant Livesay Winston Salem, North Carolina

dogged sonic diary curating hobbyist otherwise doppelgänging as producer, arranger, composer, multi-instrumentalist, lyricist, vocalist, recording engineer, vocal engineer, compiler, mixing engineer, and mastering engineer -





truth is in the shambles of i am -
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