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lyrics

My mouth is the garden of mucus.
My stomach – home waters of manatees.
My throat is the hallway for antibiotics.
My body – the temple of disease.
My rectum is now a post office.
My plumber should fix all my tubes.
My skin is the surface of Jupiter.
My hair’s manifesting my pubes.
My feet are the soldiers of searching.
My genitals – the fountain of youth.
My lungs are the feathers of seraphim.
My mind is a telephone booth.
My intuition’s earning unemployment.
My memory museum’s closed its doors.
My mind no longer controls this creature.
My soul can’t survive here anymore.
My eyes are slowly closing their curtains.
My ears – slowing the beat of their drums.
My tongue has now grown a shag carpet.
My toes no longer write to my thumbs.
My brain is a safe that holds wisdom.
My hands guide my life with their strings.
My heart is a tomb of emotions, but
My spirit’s not made of these things.

credits

from Mauled By An Otter, released April 10, 2012
Scott - accordion, vocals
H. B. Woodrows - bamboo flute
Bandito - vocals

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Scott Steven Erickson Olympia, Washington

Upbeat, quirky, and just a tad bit nihilistic.

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