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Odd Author (feat. Cynic the Apache)

from Blood Meridian by Trademarc

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lyrics

Verse One
I've had enough of being polite I've had enough of being in light Whether it's lime
colored I feel freer at night-free to recite this rhetoric heretic heathenous blight for all
you derelicts in delight Hieronymus Bosch like
Anonymous lost life'll linger in the foreground lacking foresight
So when of course night roll around
I had a 5th peeking outta my goose down
Nips in the pocket click together like loose rounds and klonopin passing out between
couch and ottoman
I was artisan
A hunger for the art of sin Anxiety had me feeling' i was never where i outta been
I've heard i light up a room
But i assume what loom in the luminescence Leftovers from my prepubescence
Cuz those lessons i reap since
Left whatever glows artificial like cheap synths

Verse Two
I've been much maligned
My malignant mood disorders designed
to sorta brutalize the natural order
And my mind is a mine field fire team hot LZ whatever tired meme litters ya internet
screen
I'm a liars dream a murderers mean spirited gene a sociopaths sick blood fetish treating
it like homeopathic love letters in new age magazines filled to the hollow tip shooting
in public headphones blastin what's blasphemous
i love it
And I covet the killer in me's spirit so i bear it like the summit where they off ya like
Golgotha
The odd author anonymous all monster
Wallace, Christopher, David Foster
peep the footnotes if i lost ya
Cuz approaching me is ill advised
That shit'll cost ya
I’m grasping at straws, Every pass is a hail mary,
No care free living I’m grinning through bared teeth,

This a breeze, transform into the gale force,
Emerald city hit the brick road on a pale horse,
Trail blazers, Make way, we ornery,
Leave ya piece of the pie, yeah baby it's more for me,
Hold a forty like my first love,
Learn suntin, younging, that malt liquor prolly the worst drug,
First up, and I struck out, What now?
Whole team shrugging, looking ugly in the dug out,
Fuck around, And we still make ya top five,
Crack a can of suds, like it’s spinach and I’m Pop eye,
I’m Spit balling, It’s written on the wall,
Theres riches in the vault, Hit em with a pinch of salt,
Seasoned vet, in the old flannel,
This that Judge Holden vs. the kid with no ammo

credits

from Blood Meridian, released November 22, 2019

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Trademarc Boston, Massachusetts

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