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Correct Blood Sandwich Lyrics
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Aesop Rock
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Correct Blood Sandwich
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Yep Steps up to the plate Little brother, little league Eighty-seven he was eight Rookie season for the skinny slugger Newly out of t-ball Pit against a pitcher with a ripper you could eat off Church, then a grip of loons run to third first Granny yelling go Cubs, nose in her word-search Seen milfs like apes on a monolithic bleacher Into advocating war and peace in lieu of sport and leisure Hi Peggie I was ten, chewing on a Sweet Tart Little brother, left field, queen's guard Mean arm, knees bent Two out, tow on bags When I caught him staring down at something moving thru the grass Hold up Tagged runner and the whole cast rotate Not before he could identify the culprit Granny yelling, go Cubs Graham yelling, Gopher New left fielder give a fuck about a homer Got a homie, little rodent, head and shoulders out his hovel No baseball in the bubble Ruh-roh Parents thought it adorable The players followed suit Inning crawling to a close Head coach not amused Coach seeing red Coach on the diamond dragging twenty-seven inches of aluminum behind him When he transverse third, the families turn nervous The following is a transcript of man vs. vermin Here we go Man stands out by a hole Pest pops up to patrol Man plays live Whack-a-Mole In a scene that would try every child as adults Woah Pall bore with a ball mit Thrown over the fence Coach hit the bench Both teams lose Good game, good game Granny yelling go Cubs, Cubs ain't playing My little brother is a funny dude A lot of funny shit happened to him My other brother pretty funny too Ain't seen him in a minute though Just in case of rough waters, I want to put one up for my brothers Just in case of rough waters, I want to put one up for my brothers Yep Not a part of the machine Big brother, big idea, ninety, sixteen Neubaten tee, plaid flannel-laden adolescent art kid Tony Hawk hair, Skinny Puppy denim And a record player vomiting Alien Sex Fiend Peel sessions in a Christian home for field testing It's real youth in the palm of your hand When your mom thinks Satan is involved in a band We were buried in the Village Voice Checking who was playing where Pulled his head up out the paper, pushing out a single tear Five words, like a beacon of light in the mist Ministry live at the Ritz It was Christ has risen to Chris Three loaves, two fish Miracle of mechanized loops on two-inch Coming to a theater he would be there in the flesh Moms didn't say no, but she didn't say yes Cop tickets, ah the plot thickens Countdown to ultimate concert experience Ma still wary And why are they called Ministry, are they a cult? Maybe she would properly investigate Bought a mag with an Al Jourgensen interview Read a couple sentences, glanced at a pic or two or three That's all, no fair trial Simply, you will not be going to the show and that's final What occurred next were the top of the lungs of a son who unjustly had lost what he loved In a moment that would transcend anger to high art Said, this is something I am willing to die for Can you even imagine a death in the fam from industrial fandom? Anyway, no body count no concert and Chris kicked rocks in his mismatched Converse My older brother is a funny dude A lot of funny shit happened to him We hadn't spoken in a couple moons I called him last night How you doing? Just in case of rough waters, I want to put one up for my brothers Just in case of rough waters, I want to put one up for my brothers
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