Nausea (2014)

Scott’s Selection: 3/12/2017 – 3/18/2017

Theme: Industrial

Artist: Moodie Black

Release Date: 5/6/2014

Runtime: 47:27

Label: Fake Four Inc.

Track Listing:

1). Hawk vs. Vulture – 3:19
2). S K I E S – 4:28
3). Death in LA Pt. 1 – 5:03
4). Death in LA Pt. 2 – 5:04
5). Linen Funerals – 5:01
6). Christ – 4:21
7). Mollyap – 2:35
8). The Mass – 4:27
9). Wolves – 4:14
10). White Buffalo – 3:57
11). B – 4:53

Lyrics:

1). Hawk vs. Vulture

Basquiat in flaming to a mood beat
The peace is so unfastened that it deathens to the humans
I do not believe in any words that says your race is what these people hardly like
Enough to burn you on a cross-wood
Make-believe the manger to the haggard heights
Of mangled taxidermied crows
The golden chains of whatever you’re doing
I was at the desert by my lift alone
Discussing with a vulture
When a hawk had led me to a bed of feathers
Balancing the bless you want with eldest dirt
Has hardened all my veins
That I had tethered to the stomach of our dream-world
You in in effect THE MASS
And I am part the wing of what the Hell’s assigned
To whatever the bells are fucking saying
Baby, you will have to be alone
While I am burning for the masses
And imploding in an android-less planet
I am not alone
And I will never be
So you can rest-assured I’m coming back on Jimmy Fallon with a vengeance
Fuck it

You never wanted me
Fuck it. Desert, Dirty, Dusty

Why the fuck you asking why the flame remains the same rot?
The name is moodie death the main refrain from all the noise cock
The rosary of passive murder, earners of American dead and rot in a church at the steeple-drenched in a massive black
You aren’t afraid of me are you bitch?
With your moss-colored fairy dust carriage in all its fucking glory
You are a medium fuck bastard that’s wanting to be hipster as the next death of massive fucks…

(Inaudible)

You never wanted me
Fuck it. Desert, Dirty, Dusty…

2). S K I E S

Where the moss grows out
When the people come
I can take the cops
I can kill dem the things
When I’m feeling bad
I can lock my doors
I can fuck my girl
I can Paris out
What the death it is?
Stop the powdered skies
Let the people wash
Let the vultures fly
Where the Res is at?
What the fuck is that?
I’m-a drive away
At the door of black

The bloom of doom the height
Of fitted masks and barely ask
To bask in caskets in the fast
Of gas to pass the hide
The rain is barely what it used to
But the birds are fed
I always wonder why my head darks
And I’m hating others
The Earth in cellophane the plains in veins
Of human science
I’ve probably hurt a tree or two
OK
Massive as the breath of totems buried
I’m rarely thinking bout the animals I’m stacking
No this isn’t hippie
Think without the villain
Maybe you’ll be famous
Maybe we can change this
Later we can argue
Melting all the weapons
Vision quest the country
Cry into the sun
Fuck
Carry what the fuck we wanna be about
Walk until the soles of us is burning
The masses never care when you’re an idol
And passive as the feathers of the grounded

3). Death in LA Pt. 1

SOME DEATH IN LA

I’ve opened up like Christ with no comparison
The prairie bad is back the Moodie Black to lap the fairer skin
Terror mirror dap the nap of scarring flat Americans and ripping at the hides to push the arrows in
Opposite of flicks that kiss the bitch and fist the pussy in
Rarely represented by your hawking bearded-charlatans
Carry rich in leather skin-ded vulture hide defy the
Powdered west the powered death in no resign to rape the holes I find BIIIIITCH
Best father noise amongst the boys of noise of unemployed devoid of modern ploys
Of goth appearance toys
You’re going past a friendship to a fuckin app to help you black and peddle past the very tribes that came
Before your deathing, accomplished
Your PR, the balding money burning purse the purring earth that put your first
The monster curse the native worst the Fake Four the other black the dollars ain’t proper
The co-signs are scary, equipment’s on fire…

SOME DEATH IN LA

So we can sit around and talk about pussy
And bang all these photographers to prove things
Bitch I’m up in Paris too somewhere dark and pagan worn
Wearing Levi holy black, borrowing your summer flat
Independent povered rich, human clothing barely fits
Plain inane the pains of freedom plains across my elder veins the same
It’s like I’ll never rot. I am all you never not
Fade away and sway to pave the way to lay the faders off. Call me black
What the crow you people think?
Death grips? Ratking? Choking on a fracking pill
Kerosene flat screens the terror bad, I’m on my own hide terrified
Compare me to the desert drones in lo-fi…fuck ’em all
I’ll shove the barrel in your eyes away from arrows. I’m intimidating size and heavy marrow
I sleep like all the others, but hunt with empty fist and barely parish while the masses
Probably know they shouldn’t eat me

SOME DEATH IN LA

As I was born naked running pairing adolescence climbing up the EL PASO difference, rock fence
The valley vultured out and kicked me further west before the ocean in the middle of coyotes
I learned how to talk fast and drum on things to capture what had mattered to the person that
I barely had control of. I danced on top of planks of feathered humans to a mass that wouldn’t want me
And I yelled at them for wearing plastic clothing
Abandoned to the middle of the country where I yelled at them of parodies and ruffled those who probably wouldn’t want me
Although I was a crow of bad precision spreading out across the planet, back in Paris where they barely spoke my language
I cut my talons off and back to cacti where the fairest can’t compare me and the dust is just as much me as the flowers
But unfinished ego has my farming bad. I laid it on the six dark, these people that don’t want me gotta choke me

SOME DEATH IN LA

4). Death in LA Pt. 2

We’re ready for the mass
Flame arrest black
The fabric of our dirt
The cattle lying flat
The belly of the wind
The Native Shiprock
The baddest in defiance
MOODIE Black stress
I think it matters where I static now
The FUCKING desert is a happy place
And for the masses I will give you things
I’ll do my dances and I swear I’ll rap

You are not dark
We are the highest order
Somewhere in LA
Fucking mass murder
Carriage in a moss
Lost in a mountain
Calvalry of blanks
Native humans coming
Prarie buried under bullet teeth and stuck in landscape
How is worn Apache black leather after thunder?
Me and Earth a bloody mess and full mass
Nothing underrepresented
Heavy on the master fader
Countless bitter rape of caverns
Copies of the never human
Soldering the master tapes
Elk hide and elder fat
Not a lot of friends out here
See you in the 20 after
But you will never find me…

LA
LA
LA

5). Linen Funerals

I never rot the way that others do
Knew from baby feathers I was better tryna always clip this cheddar
Mass defender
The cast I’m in is not the proper color pallete pastor worded father here’s your sinner
From baby birth to now the power links the genders
No one notices im walking in both gardens barefoot and embarassed
I’m just a touch impoverished to my backword brethen mammals of the mighty sculptures
Hiding in the bushes. Who you fucking?
I’m just as strong as any girl, so where the fuck’s my weapon at your scary hacks
Afriad to be who you is on the weekends
The rapping blanket suffocates the African Americana
Wets the flaming men from modern prairies to the ghettos…not at all…

What will you wear when you die?

Remember I was three the flowers got the best of me
I vanished in the blanket of a locked room
I could tell what I would do was not of talking
Baby bad and never thinking, keep the human in the closet
Bury him in softest linen. Ridicule all horses will, not allowed dressed in fields
Loving what I never bought, not allowed, had to steal. Never softer not a guy
Something bout these fangs I’m hanging, paranoid. I’m paralyzed…

What will you wear when you die?

6). Christ

Human beings are whacked out the diamonds is wild
Fuck humans lets all ditch and bitch til we witch
I’m like owl with wide brow and style I feel bad in black shirts
Glad to be loud and dirt
Fang out til it hurt
Burst and first to revert
Burnt I’m cast to be irked
Chirp and blast til it rot
Plot is gospel and possibly so demon
It’s even bleeding and gleaming in vegan lure of the season

Oh my God

We’re keeping Jesus in mass flats of appearance bitch
In the desert I dodge rounds
When I’m sinking I’m not allowed, naked with all limbs in offensive gestures
I’m not positive fangs…but fuck it…

(inaudible)

7). Mollyap

Manic human beings by appearance
I’m losing all my people in the parish
Parable of bible and a whiskey, hear me?
I’m scared I have no bearings on my fucking hearing
Like what is it I’m doing in the desert alone?
I’m rarely having money, you can tell by my tone
I’m breaking all the rules and dancing out on the res, and what of the natives is tattle-telling instead

NO. ONE. CAN. DIE. LIKE. WE. DO. BLACK. OUT. CROW. FEATHERS

So every clubbing outing compare me to emo pouting

The MOODIE des

8). The Mass

Never really calm in a warm car
Filthy in a country with a broke arm
Crow with a limp never flies right
Swagger in his stride but its not death
Meeting all the face from the waist down
I don’t have a taste for the hawk down
I can barely dance on my own plot
I am never here and I’m France-bound
FUCK what the mass ever wanted
I ain’t never fucked with an asterisk
I could be cool with some matches
I would be proud with the ashes
FUCK with the mass ever wanted
You could have everything borrowed
Choke on a death worn shrapnel
Fuck what the mass ever wanted

Dying to fly I flew away

The sun is half its rot
And fills this room with half its muscled heart
The tape machine is monochromed and quiet gray to fill the part
Tomorrow I’ll be half the man I’m sposed to be and rape the stairs
Four floors then dirty core I’m not a whore I flap the horror huh?
The flakes debate the fate of raping flannel dusty flaccid grass the rebel bless
Th devil crops, the GMO that’s splashed upon
The massive fucked up massive Earth

Dying to fly I flew away

9). W O L V E S

On the real is a gun with a shot lip
I don’t ever want that with my bad bitch
Running from the comfort of a warm body
Passed what I love blond with a red herring
To the keflon on with the scruffed blouse
She is what I’m bout now ’til I black out
I’m a pigeon at the rot with the fangs gold
Where I low my bow posed ’til the flints old
I promised Paris with the pair of us in modern arrows
And got us carried there in linen chewing at our marrow
I do what I can do, dream like a vulture
And carry what can power me til burial
Humans I’m a parody
Dying with a lady that I’ll never rock and looking forward to our weathred cabin
I know she will murder
She a FUCKIN maverick
And a manic hawk a fire in the prairie of the baddest. Promise

Nobody statics at the thought of us undressing
Feathers down upon the tile floors
Of Mom’s house we borrowed from her, since
We burned the rules
We left the world responsible
We made the things we wanted them
And changed our skins to match the earth we…

Remember?
Wolves

The prairie is the mattress
Keep the vultures in the garden
We’ll been kissing in the sadness
Gobbling tongue at the top of the tower
Power best in what is human
To influence what your dreaming
In the belly of your happy to your vehicles of privilege
Promise of the stress
I’ll never treat you like a metal
Keep the birds away from whatever you feed em

(inaudible)

…can’t be blamed for blood on the fabric of your covers….

10). White Buffalo

When it looks fucking nasty and the same human beings are the ones that are dancing…cowards
Vicariously cancelled with a medicine bag dangling on my family with an Arizona cameo
Nobody is buried the same master, I rip to the flame moss to the flock bossing or not we’re off

No fucking the cats back off
Ugh
All black on my block. Duck

You see all the friends you make believe
Aren’t going anywhere anytime soon
You always seem to miss the first buffalo
Sad with what happened on last night’s pillow
Nobody is better than you
Your co-sign of death on your liver and your taxes…..

No security bitch
Nah keep fanging ’em bitch
Filled with nausea ho, aw your bad

When I gave you all my power
You were flower when you got up
Undevoured were your sneakers all my hours when you turned up
In your manic or your madness
You are naked and it’s shocking
So the humans are the flocking
Never timeless
You are nothing
Your are flame
Your are dust
You are now
You’re the static
You’re unmanaged
You are plastic
You are average
Your enough….

And I… and I….

11). B

It smells like poison in the crowing morning
Its 4am and bleeding orange on blankets
I woke myself to save the thought or morning
The bee of blacking bark and non electric
I’m shivering in spite of middle summer
The cabin’s wood panels eat the runner
They cut at the access to my heated water
And brought a summons to my front door
I’ve been away for half a year on kill
And now I’m back and everything is spiders
I’m in too deep to leave the things that is
And there is no one left that needs it more
I’ll do whatever, light myself on fire
I’ll choke myself with every kind of wire
I’ll FUCKIN dance while I am dying out

Slow down. Bees

Strangers in a cradle on my front lawn
Working on a Monday rarely happens now
My hair is losing color but I’m stronger now
My cheekbone is wiping up the tile floor
I am still a stubborn elk of noisy pastures
I create the meat that you are eating after
But I do what I can do and not afford
So I grab my dirt and try to cling to more
Becoming what a tribal humans s’posed-to is
Against what every grown man would say this is

Light Me on fire in my FUCKING sleep

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