Kill Me Before I Fuck Myself

by Theophagus

/
1.
(DRIFTWOOD FROM THE GOOD SHIP) SKINPOP Die on me with a rubber eye The rotting hemisphere of a smart-arse pie A deadline rave-up and Laughy Boy's blind Kill up the land o'er de river fine Another in the know, ebb lava world You know Mother Nature is a riot grrl A good blowjob in Carbide Labs Your slip is showing, an' I'm just keepin' tabs Mo Mo Bauer and your pirate soul "Stalin's Revenge" and a drop seed goal Combat jazz on the Skinpop mast Big hairy pussy on legs, running fast Tsunami bangs on Mrs. Risk Fresh out of tune with the turtlehead disc Fall-down drunk on the way to Nepal Is/Not/No and that's not all Sissy Mary La La, Phillip Space Reacharound Robin gonna dance with your face Stainless, painless, Skinpop boat Stuff that laugh back down your throat Romeopathic cock-a-doodle-crack Kneecapped First Mate Snappy Comeback Brownie drop tele-duct, New/Mistakes/Stop Driftwood from the good ship Skinpop
2.
GOD HELP THE GHOST [4-track version] On the bed, the Ghost, he said, "I've got more money when I don't buy drugs" and Flatt & Scruggs couldn't pick his nose much better He got a letter from the probation judge Please God help the Ghost Tipsy, no brakes, stoned, no gas, and we coast into HELL! I'm lyin on the floor while pleasantries mutate I'm past the astral plane I'm the target of a nation's hate In the pool, the cleaning tool It creeps up from the opaque depths So I cower on the steps in the shallow Ghost, he says, "follow" [to] where the deep end was After swimmin' we calls up women And his girl he's had for a while And with a smile he seeks emotional cover Pretends he doesn't love her, but I think he does ...into HELL!!!
3.
Mini-Thins 01:58
MINI-THINS The name is redundant, the feeling's repugnant I won't ever get it - my stomach don't let it The cheaper the pill pop I can't afford 'Truck Stop' Life, I just take it in I'm bingin' on Mini-Thins I got a lot of work to do So I look for assistance from a little bottle of pills and a cold Mountain Dew The 'Thin' could refer to the thinning effect you experience fasting Cheap high everlasting My head is a soda pop The poorer man's 'Truck Stop' The wired, tired, sick spins I'm suckin' down Mini-Thins I got a lot of work to do So I look for assistance from a little bottle of pills and a cold Mountain Dew I got a lot of time to kill, so I figure it'd be best if I was climbin' the walls all night Just one more pill Just one more pill...
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NDIC 01:04
N.D.I.C. Naw, djude*, it's cool... * i.e. waspy snowboarder dialect
7.
BORN IN A SOUNDBOOTH The descent from the deck to the locker is my speedbag with hands A horrible band’s on my back Runnin’ low with the show of glands The head has gone all screwy I went spooey on his mother A cursed loser (or should I say “another”) Blood and sweat are floodin’ but I bet yer bottom rock that I’ll be damned all of a sudden if I ever let my cock lose any blood and sweat are floodin’ but I bet yer bottom rock That I’ll be damned all of a sudden if I ever let my cock drive me to tears Fake this job and love it Tougher than suffering zen A beat obsolete’s in my head but the flow is a no-show again Ballad of the Cattledove The Battle of the Mess Tent And the hesitant will face what they most fear (no help from the balladeer) Blood and sweat are floodin’ but I bet yer bottom end that I’ll be damned all of a sudden if I let it die again And if my cock decides to rock then it’s the lordy-lordy forty 'Cause I’ll be in molten sea before it writes my songs before me once again Born in a soundbooth, grew into an untruth
8.
SWIMMING TO THE SUN I danced a jig on a million backs Left my trail of vacuum tracks Snuck inside and pissed your covers Swam to the sun in the toilet of lovers Hands up Reach for the sky I want to spend the rest of my money with you Hands down Reach for the ground Give me your life
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21-9 01:09
21-9 You run through the pines where the sun never shines and you shun all the signs of import It’s so fun to climb the vines and to uncover their wines and the sun scorched [the] little shrines guilty in court Just and gun and a dozen lines She’s the one where they combines and you stun them with your nines just for sport
11.
BLAME IT ON RIO LINDA Take a drive on couch-ditch mile Have a line of coke and a smile But it's toothless and upside-down all the while I remember all the way back when Yard-car hotel until I was ten And the go-fast mill in the backyard exploded again
12.
I Love Sleep 03:43
I LOVE SLEEP I love to sleep, I love to dream I love to leave behind the world I claim to love But does it seem that I would rather sleep than hang around with you? It should, because it’s true You don’t know what you do When you thoughtlessly awaken me (or maybe you do) But we would not be having this argument if I was sleeping Wouldn’t have to feel, wouldn’t have to see Hear, smell, taste, touch, or have you bothering me I wouldn’t have to feel what’s real (Just a phantom reality) I close my eyes and fantasize but there’s a constant interruption to my dream That’s spouting lies and interlacing and infecting all my thoughts of robots and fleshpots of gunshots and subplots But you thoughtlessly awaken me to all that is ersatz And we would not be having this argument if I was sleeping
13.
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AIN'T THAT SOMETHIN' When I’m wet I turn to mud and I’m thinning out my blood For the smart surreal is somethin’ and the heart of steel is pumping too hard Be that as it were and as it may, it might Wish upon a star from which there is no light There is no gravity The Earth just sucks tonight You run like paint but somethin’ ain’t right When I’m wet I look for drains and I’m thickening my veins For the smart surreal is somethin’ and the heart of steel is pumping too hard The smart surreal You faintly feel You feel so faint You run like paint but somethin’ ain’t right
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WHO NOT WHAT AND WHY NOT WHO Who Not What and Why Not Who
18.
GOD HELP THE GHOST [8-track demotion] On the bed, the Ghost, he said, "I've got more money when I don't buy drugs" and Flatt or Scruggs couldn't pick his nose much better He got a letter from the probation judge Please God help the Ghost Tipsy, no brakes, stoned, no gas, and we coast into HELL! I'm lyin on the floor while pleasantries mutate I'm past the astral plane I'm tortured and sedate(d) In the van with a beer can with his mommy in the back and his girlfriend in his lap He's feeling cocky (and he hears) the walkie-talkie from the cop car (fuck!) oh fudge
19.
THE LONGEST BALLS It's so cold out, and it's so drafty And life like mine, you're keeping warm And it's a fashion, she's so crafty and somebody's everybody to me But I wish that I could leave my post in the Arctic Circle to star in blue movies But duty calls I've got the longest balls I've got the longest balls I know I could become a star if I tried But how do I escape from this trap? It's freezing cold as the Arctic midnight falls I've got the longest balls Joined the Army and I was demoted I couldn't keep my claim to fame inside my standard-issue shorts But I wish I could go back home to be a porno star Exiled away, I want to smash the walls I've got the longest balls I've got the longest balls I know I could become a star if I tried But how do I escape from this trap? It's freezing cold as the arctic midnight falls I've got the longest balls Balls
20.
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Baby Debate 00:32
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24.
DIXY FIXY TRIXY PIXY There's a stripper from the South who'd never have to use her mouth 'cuz her lifestyle probably tells the story better An' I'll annoint the point with ointment at my subsequent appointment when that lifestyle that I never led catches up with dear old (who's-your-)dad(dy) when it catches up with me There's a basement underneath where someone's mom with crooked teeth has finally put that mouth of hers to use And hebbin' knows, beneath the skin, within that sinful Mex-a-kin, there lives a lifestyle never led where she would not have ended up so neck-up-dead and pitiful to me And then what came my way was one that got away Although some would say that this wasn't so She'd been lookin' 'round for me And I hoped that I could see more of she who was so nearly mine that I still believe She surfaced at the perfect time to break my heart and leave And of course there is another who is practically my brother if she hadn't been a lover and a girl And our love had blood around it So she shouted, "I have found it" But I'll save that for some other story someday when my "dory"'s just a little bit more hunky And that junkie lifestyle catches up with me Dixy is rik-sy and Fixy's a beater Trixy is sweetness But my Pixy is sweeter
25.
1918 LAPD 02:28
1918 LAPD Unenlightened visions An ominous shade of shit A worthless cause or a roasted misunderstanding That this silent stone would stand the time For generations to come and go in the green grass What really happened, motherfuckers?
26.
LYRICS BY THAT GIRL TOWARD WHOM I THRICE THREW BEEF [a poem she sent me about working at a Shell gas station] "At The Station" by K.B. The window glass magnifies the heat inside my head Everyone moves by Hurried on their ways But I sit rotting lazily in my shell Oil spots and dirty toilets Beep beep beep beep beep Shut the hell up, I hear you You stupid fucking cunt Give me your money and leave my space Ten on two Go ahead and pump it up your loose faggot ass
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LARISSA'S FACE Riding a pine box through deep space All around The spaceships still look like fakes They told me what it takes: Not to try and hide the wire but to make the wire stronger Gathering rocks on her face Deep in the ground They came back to let me know the proper way to go: a heading far beyond the fire But wait a while longer 'cause I don't remember which way is down The mouth of moon talks of a place milk-way renown Resurface the punk opaque Don't matter why it's fake Belly up and then retire and wait a while longer for the sky to shower embers Then we'll go down
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ATHENA, IF THAT IS YOUR REAL NAME Everyone's behaving like Dutch Pink's dogs and I've yet to believe that there is anything worth saving Between living and knowing Here go the cogs and I've just gotta find out - Where is this place that we're going? I've got a ticket She's got a check in her pocket (or lack thereof) Lookin' for love where there is no money I'm window-shoppin' We'll all be one-sock-hoppin' by the end of the night Outside on the curb we are altered states disturbed But we say it's all right And I write what we say But she's three states away
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Dutch Leaves 03:20
DUTCH LEAVES In a town of sleepy-eyes juxtaposed with tweakin' guys You reall start to wonder which is which. The only rays come from cathode, and when you drink, you have one for the road And then another for the ditch. And from this drunken wasteland came a gangly figure with no name (although it had been said to be Dutch Corning). And Corning was a hunting man, but his only ammo was a can of worms collected in the morning. But one fine day upon his boat, he realized, "to say afloat upon a sea of apathy is boring! I should think on grander scales - prove to all that setting sails is not reserved to those who are exploring! This town is but a burning clutch! The stench has just become too much to bear! I've got to leave this place today! I'll let them know my name is Dutch - and when my fancy sneakers touch the ground, then all around will say, 'hooray!'" He packed some things into a sack, a fancy backpack with a rack and stacked up all his crap into a case. In need of rest, his mind distressed, the dawn was burning on his chest as he set off to leave that horrid place. And as he stood upon the border, he thought it might be too tall an order, just to leave his home like that. But clarity soon overthrew the doubts he had, and then he knew this was the perfect time to get his hat.
33.
MISPLACED EVERYTHING (MINI-THINS PT. 2) AKA “Calypso Collapse” AKA “Sylvia Plath Bake-Off” A perilous compound, a time of misplacement We rode the descentor straight down to de basement I heard Chinese talkbox, I drank double-fisted but by lubrication she was unassisted I gotta lotta time to kill so I think it’d be best if I was climbin’ the walls all night Calypso collapse-o within Slater’s coven We’re having a bake-off in Sylvia’s oven You came to the right place for [a] butternut skweemic The bachelor party that wasn’t bulimic
34.
AND THIS GROOVY GRAVEYARD (GOD HELP THE GHOST PT. 2) As long as I've got the firing squad out I'll make another formal goodbye For a decade we shared the same brain, but it changed And he's still lookin' for the ultimate high "This groovy graveyard" has taken a fall Of all our vices, he kept them all Please God help the Ghost Tipsy, no brakes, stoned, no gas, and we coast into hell As long as I've known him I'd rather not know the way his tangent ever played out The night we had shared us a case But my face hit the floor and gave me permanent pout As for the stories, they'll just have to wait Give me some time, I'll slip 'em under the gate
35.
YOU WILL WANT ME AND I'LL RUN AWAY I never get lost in a daydream 'cuz I've got a map I've got your copy You always give a good read What I choose not to tell you makes me laugh.
36.

about

{TCE-046}

Another hour of puerile home recordings by teenaged Xoc (me) from the mid-to-late '90s. Volume 8 in a continuing series that, having exhausted the most accessible and good-natured material at the start, just gets weirder and more off-putting, with its -FI getting LO-er and LO-er...

Enjoy!

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released September 1, 2015

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TrashCanEagle Sacramento, California

Official label of XOC* and friends


* one of those video game music guys

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