new flint lrx

no time for trusting me, no would touch me 'cause i don't have steady hands, or a bolted heavy stance. frantic and decoding glances, well, why aren't they, too, panicking? and the price for a coffee nowadays. and now in a daze... i do my palates on a pie plate. it's safe to be a saint today, i'm sad to say. ((i live here in butter ripple fantasy with poltergeists at shoulder height. they scrape my face with fear ON THE NIGHTLY). meanwhile at milk chocolate factory, the workers speak of daydream hairdos and prices they pay FOR THEIR VICES). split me open 'cause i got no guts and i drink too much and i talk too much and now i've said too much. i've said too much. mother, may i eat my mouth, mother, may i?

the last of the worthy thoughts are coasting to a stop. kind of wholly lonely, mostly going postal, slow groaning, slowly growing, go to hell. losing hair. losing interest. losing sleep. can you tell? nothing looks the same. re-paint. ok, i guess i get it: selfish times, selfish measures. whatever, paint it thick. OH! A Bonus?! GO HOME. Grin for Goodies?! FUCK, NO. and cancel this years' big reunion, (somehowijustthinknoneofthemaredyingtoseeyousorryhoney). got passive and stayed conventional. plenty of time to mull over the plenty of times you got cold shoulders. lost my little buoy. here's my neutral disappointment dance. we can all afford to avoid it. give me a new phrase and i'll coin it, and we'll all pay to ignore it. it's such a chore to think about it. so then, i guess i won't. watch me cut it off, now. SUCH A CHORE  TO THINK ABOUT IT! i'll be in the clubhouse. i've got all this time to mull it over. well, well. don't dwell. cut it off! RIGHT NOW! okay. i'll be in the clubhouse.

it's ok. no, really, it's ok. just walk around me. although that's something that i'm used to it is one more for the pile. i lie to get away. rolled 3 of them, nothing came of them. i do want something to come of this. when? at least something candy-coated to show for this. what? when? what? when? what? my filthy plot is caught up coughing up imploding selfless thought. when? what? when? what? smoked 3 of them nothing to show for them. when? what? and all the while i look back to pile. when? ask: when the fuck...? what fucking happened? what? when? what? when? what? when? what? when? she left us crying about where we went wrong. it's the way it is/throw it on the pile. it's that slice of cake, (with glass baked inside). my insight says i'm down when i'm down i'm UP, no, i'm down. the people here, it kills them to smile, that's one more for the pile. my home is a birdhouse i don't grind my teeth for fun, it's automatic. i should have rolled 4.

do you think i'm cold heart-ed? well i inhabit a deepfreeze. i dwell in a fridge. i was raised in the tundra, baby, it's just my nature. oh, to be talking trash and thrashing, kicking cups off the coffee table. do you think it pleases me to keep chrysalids? it's for these reasons that i re-assess the samples. i do nibble on the pieces. little bits of a thesis are sneaking in through a personal jesus. my eyes are inside out, upside down, and filled with doubt. duplicate lines, sleep decay, dreaming past what i can say. i think looking back, spacious and ungrateful, must have been a mistake, oh well, refrigerate the past. concave view of the cave. i'm no sort of mine for diamonds. i'll mime the events that shaped me into such a complex. whitewash for tolerance, it was all self loathing gluttony any how, i've been mustering up some personal antibiotics for division, division, division. schism, schism, schism.  slap on the dijon and call me uncle. my eyes are inside out, upside down, and filled with doubt. duplicate lines, sleep decay, dreaming past what i can say. enough of my muttering, my stuttering, i can make this buttery. a vision of division, division, schism, schism. "son, put some fucking skip in your step!". my eyes are inside out, upside down and filled with doubt. duplicate lines, sleep decay dreaming past what i can say. oh, to be talking trash and thrashing, kicking cups off the coffee table, i can make this buttery! slap on the dijon and call me uncle!

"2!"

Old School - The John Spinnaker Project

Here is a special treat for you guys! 

I know it's been awhile since I've even uttered the sentence "The John Spinnaker Project" but I thought it's about time that I dug up the lyric book for our " 7 Reasons You Wont Like This EP" 

I took the liberty to scan a few of the pages, and in the case it's not legible I have summarized the songs for you! aha I hope you enjoy this, it's our little secret!

#2

Sealed in a Bag, in a Bag, in a Bag

Can you create castles in the clouds

With stones found in the water

Into Twist-Flip we Propel

In the Corner of your Eye

I can see Pyramids of Energy

This place of Comfort is falling apart

If you feel Groovy, Then lets see a Movie

I'll Give you a Kiss, It's Hit or Miss

Zeitgeist Escapes Fichu

No matter what I throw up

Nothings as Vile as you

You Fuck Ing Librarian Dont

Tell Me To Lower My Voice Bitch

I will wear your skin for Halloween

And when peo ple ask ( Your an )

Tell them im a mistake ( Exter )

Your tears turn me on ( Minator of Optimism )

You dark little weep doll ( A Prostitute of Obsession )

Fast Food!

Did I Mix Things Up I

Did I Mixed Things Up Oh

Hun I Mixed You Up I

Did I Mix You Up Oh

Hun I Mixed You Up

Frequent Monster Swap ( Don't Slap Me )

You know I've always found myself

Sick to my stomache with the infection of your clique

Fuck you, Fuck you!

The way you twist things into chaos

It's a never ending shitshow

of your I've got this all figured out and your supposed

Enlightenment draped in thick curtains of confusion

You will not recognize these things caught up in your candy coated dream whatever

the choices that i've witnessed

infuse me with a replenished

love for hating!

don't talk to me! don't think about me!

you will become another forgotten face!

TK + DG = Foam Fiesta

It's my primal instinct ( to want to )

touch your reproductive organs

you better be crying for this is my victory

my semen is more viscous than yours

your uterus contains the fluid of a thousand screaming virgins

and victory is sweet

you are on fire

running through the woods

from the man

running and running as fast as you can

like a bland trivial waste, oh yeah your really on fire

see degradation at slow pace, a congestion

so do you feel content there is foam

seeping from your orifice like a warm ocean tide

while i pleasure myself you realize this is the definition of irony

the grass is never greener on the other side

i've lost my love for everything

P@RTY4EVA

my eyes shake

your eyes shake

seeing slow and detached

fuck those birds pecking at my bodies

participating in judge-fest 2008

you wish to be and indie girl but i ( know your all the same )

twice the size on mirrors ( now thats a fucking party )

social decay ( develops )

i see it forming ( in my school )

sometimes i throw up all over myself

na na na na na na nan na na na nan na

substitute reality with the truth

if you have lost / don't own a copy of this,
grab a temporary digital download from: mediafire