mc paul barman – bleeding brain grow lyrics
let’s have a discussion about bussing larval racists
to the ghetto and make them let go their carpal braces.
bronze them, then melt them to a plaque.
where’s the outer city? i believe “inner city” means
“black”.
did you notice both black women and jewesses wore wigs?
what a coinkyd-nk. i’ll put my hands down their pants
and make my pinky stink. i want a sista, not a shiksa.
yes, i am from a rinkyd-nk town.
republicrats: they take half a step forward and then
they double back.
they speak with a gay lilt, tilted their grey kilt,
spilt on the aids quilt with the dregs of a keg
plus eggy smeg all down the leg.
you make my karma puke.
you, who refuse to disarm a nuke.
and keep printing marmaduke.
more anger than margaret sanger sitting on a bl–dy
coat hanger.
i built a planned parenthood
out of transparent wood and fibergl-ss.
cybercast from the tigris and euphrates
to the khyber p-ss.
geronimo!
there’s no such thing as anonymo
to the i.r.s.-kimo.
and things are getting worse.
there was laughter after nafta
because it can’t be reversed.
little thought in my knot.
ooh you make it hot.
send a puff of steam out the ears
to make the bleeding brain grow.
since when is shaved the norm?
i’ll take these depraved deformed enslaved conformed
wedge letter bed wetter cuneiform.
you call them hirsute? fur’s cute.
smoothness: a trivial pursuit.
i hope your ova’s kosher
like lox from nova scotia. breakfast in bed.
twists in the bread. pretzel dough model.
how much does the challah cost?
grandma worshipped quetzalcoatl
and gramps made a d-mn nice lampshade.
they stretched his tanned flesh out like a band-aid
without the sterile pad.
as a feral lad, did you feel in peril, dad?
roam home to a dome
on the crest of a neighboring hill.
where the ch-r-s are all done
before they’re begun
and eclectic nonsense is nil.
what’s that on your beard?
a tiny ivory black power fist facial hair comb.
i’m building geodesic domes.
calling rick o’casek “homes.”
ma, origami magi roam. eve,
mika, rza, evil jd. nasir is osiris and jlive, az,
rakim, [palindrome]
cormega, cage, mr. o.c.:
i’m anomie. i, mon ami.
it’s abundantly clear.
there’s profundity here.
it tickled pickle clowns and comics
when i liberated one of those fancy meshy office chairs
and called it “trickle-down ergonomics.”
little thought in my knot.
ooh you make it hot.
send a puff of steam out the ears
to make the bleeding brain grow.
i can rhyme anything.
like a palindrome, for morse code,
to make the bleeding brain grow.
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