Saccharin [Lyrics]

can we find an aerie fiery as Sahara
let’s go ad astra per aspera
can we have the chance in the cool night air of
a michaelangelan dream with our hands raised
drawing constellations and conclusions amazed
can we have the chance in a dreamy wherever
can I have the chance to say I am yours

so Fender you fever dream
yr better than her as anything, doing anything
and I know you will do it if I want you to
and do I want you to do

“lips”
howzit done, some phallic grimoire?
my Byleth coming to me hard
my lips loving you
please
ease
apart
my heart
this is why I crashed the S-A-A
plugged yr nth step in twilit melee
my astrogliding gateway

each other’s primal meridian
simultaneously we reach zeniths
my lips holding in
cream
scream
head
high
howzit done, some phallic grimoire?
my Byleth coming to me hard
my lips loving you

“ay Yaz (roaches ain’t ever getting rained on)”
pabst out downsouth with all the church’s frikkin’ kids
us greased rucksacks, vaselining park benches, shit
second helpings, Whole Foods’ thrown out top shelf and all hell
roaches ain’t ever getting rained on
buy me a coke in this heat I said
sir I see a spare cigarette I said
Yazzie’s turn to fly the sign I said
she’s ride-or-die, f’she’s fucked up I bled
see that guy used to go to my high school
and last night I tried rolling squares with the Bible
and my Fender’s dropped acid the past eight straight days
heard some yuppie s’rorty float a homelessness escapade
and she invented vodka in that ice-flavored Gatorade

ay Yaz, ay Yaz, ay Yaz, ay Yaz
smoke, smoke, smoke, smoke
‘safraz, ‘safraz, ‘safraz, ‘safraz

made my fake ID on Microsoft Word
cross-fade at the club, too stoned, one bird
says Yaz’n me went for beat oldies homeless chic’n failed
wasn’t meant as a complement but hell
ghetto hammocks of scotched tarp and boxcars
we doctored ourselves and decked out after we balled hard
skinny-dipped in the university pool we sneaked into
flashed the pigs and mobbed out and called out “be seein’ you!”
I’ve got the only future I want right here
the posse with moxie, the Damiani paparazzi
boxing out fugazi, frauds, impostuhs, bravado and posh bums
soaking up our culture that’s already washed up
pumpin’ cardiac arrest in this molasses heartland
you rained out in yr somehow beloved flotsam
you’ve dieted on acidic ersatz
on cigarettes and saccharine Smirnoff
and it’s inevitable you’ve got no chance in hell

ay Yaz, ay Yaz, ay Yaz, ay Yaz
you toke, you toke, you toke, you toke
‘safraz, ‘safraz, ‘safraz, ‘safraz

“saccharin”
they look zoologic to the pedestals
I look pneumatic to the animals
meanwhile my mood’s black as ebony Yaz
got waitress’s courtesy to violet dads

saccharin
saccharin
saccharin
saccharin

zigzag halflight pylons around me
liquid glitch hop and Washington dowries
greasy emcees do they got rogue’s honor
or ponder for how much they can pawn her

saccharin
saccharin
saccharin
saccharin

I’ve clocked out, gone out, we’re in a deficit
lined up as a neon Nile, an inert precipice
festive as hangovers, deadened as cadavers
until we’re blessed as angel dust Byleth cops off some ‘nnabe banger
puts us galactic, metallic taste chased with jack honey ‘nd Jäger
and you get me so right, strobe lights, you I get yo dripping
sexuality, sotto voce irony, dry humping nympholepsy
you grind on me vigilante, and I’ve spied on you vigilantly
Yaz, razzmatazz, I won’t spazz out for no one else, so help me out ‘cuz
Byleth has sweet-talking to me but that’s just

saccharin
saccharin
saccharin
saccharin

“the king of purgatory”
cultic smile
pelvic wile
his darkshine eyes
caramelize

make yr baseness arpeggio
hellacious fellatio
I’m not falling but au contraire
for his zombified debonair

fake yr idiosyncrasy
gothic vintage and martian chic
grime me like a modern shiksa
make this vixen ho gung
make out like corrupted cherubic wraiths
sixain piscean like sabbatic mates
bathe in sacred ylang-ylang
let yr oils perfume my tongue

don’t love the king of purgatory
crown of lead poisoning
don’t fall for hades in drag
bad bad bad

“ex’s ex”
tricks of light are tearing thru the night’s air of physique
the aurora’s areola is discolored, metallic and sleek
serrate celestial fingers muscle past mystique
my thoughts are now as ironed as an abrasive widow’s peak

her unstoppable force against
our immovable objections
and our conjugate silhouettes
versus my ex’s ex from exodus
she sits down with us, kidding us, seemingly oblivious
I’m carrying a grudge even if I passed her Dutch
you’ll be sorry “tinny barbie”

that cracked method acting
and zen schizo laughing is acne
where my headspace is dwelling
festering and swelling
ego anaphora
intra gaslighting
the del valle coming down
peaks like icebergs as memory
she’s still getting to me now
stiletto thinking stellateing
she’s still getting to me now
unnoticed descending steady
she’s still getting to me now

“oaxaca”
this carousal carols alla zingara
this powwow paroles us outta tedium
we will be efeblums having a

a ménage à trois in oaxaca
mezcal and mescaline jonesin’
smoked peyote since as a zygote in a beatnik dream
yr my star anise, capiche?
heard, paul van dyk and avicii
wild coyotes, flaming june bugs, christmas eve

we are isthmussing one debauched night to the next
we are bourgeoisie and tyrannosaurus rex
we seine every handsome fish in the sea
insane and still fake it polyliterally
I believe in you turned into the Michelin man
I believe in you made of clotted cream and hydrangean
I believe in you concentrated of midichlorians
I believe in you seeing me as a Tralfamadorian
I believe in you as a bouquet of orgies
I believe in you as Galápagos tortoise
I believe in
dreams we spent eves in jumelle parlay
Beaujolais and Mel Tormé
cris de coeur in a ruelle foray
hair-raising murmurs in française
I believe in

a ménage à trois in oaxaca
mezcal and mescaline jonesin’
smoked peyote since as a zygote in a beatnik dream
yr my star anise, capiche?
heard, paul van dyk and avicii
wild coyotes, flaming june bugs, christmas eve

“broke works”
yeah, yeah christmas eve at the presbyteri’n, list’nin’
lotto tickets for trinkets, citrine backpacks, Chex-mix snackpacks
plaid vestments, Kraft Mac, hacky sacks, ratchet hats, triple XL jackets
punched in and pulled back a nuclear cul-de-sac
plates of hot mixed veg’table and then Raisin’ Cane’s to-go
and then pavement pained thorough
that sorry Marley saw me’n struck the first blow
those tawdry harpies barking
those sirens ire’n at me and mine
this churchyard corralled on a landmine
we’re getting shanghaied by gang-ties
the works’ staff misses the first half infighting
amidst the sexless and berdache and senseless and kirst’ pfaffs
and Byleth and Yaz and me and mine and cuz

you scrubbed me with scuzz
you advised me with fuzz
you photosynthesize chloride
broke works is all the buzz

I tend to be the Goethean Grinch
I tend to be the papyrus fascist
consigned us to cosine climaxing
bottled on her bovine hydrazine
Byleth is in lower devachan
good luck to his newfound haven
Marley’s hid in coveted detritus
her victor’yus laughing asbestosis
she got the best of us
Yaz is lifting me up with weight in her chest nevertheless

you scrubbed me with scuzz
you advised me with fuzz
you photosynthesize chloride
eye for an eye
broke works is all the buzz

“hitting back is the hymen burst
the bloodlust is dyin’ of thirst
the vengeful noise, the psyche hertz
the fourth hundred and ninety-first
U R MIA MD
yr an ennuyé and empty thing
anemone anemia
instant Nescafé and stevia
U R MI double-A F MD, ya”

“inner peace is”
myopic love is my old song
and no one is where think I belong
and I waited dazed and green for you
but I couldn’t breathe ‘til I turned blue
got you double jointed custody
and I wish your choice was cutting me
til you have carpal tunnel syndrome
swollen eyes and tired bones

shampoo every other week
disciplined lack of technique
parrot everything that his
split personalities did speak
burning up but for your health
are martyrs murdering themselves
macaroni oatmeal pizza
that’s the way teenagers smell

your island’s a favorite mirage
the sea’s a heartfelt collage
cutting apart fame to pieces
d’you find what your inner peace is

“too close to the sun (yaz’s lament)”
have you been half-human
in the porch light smoke is curlin’
watching wisps from Parliaments
hit the ceiling fan again, again

have you been the vacuum in
a former flame’s own mortal soul
does it eat you up or make you whole
does endless forgiveness take its toll

too close to the sun
still is where the grass is greener
everyone today’s a dreamer

have you been saccharin
from the dénouement of ultraviolet
has the world played yr lament
on its smallest violin
do you have enough self-love
I like you you and I like me too