Big Rhys Lyrics

I’ve saved these memories on blocks:

To come of age in the
Arathi Highlands
With my Guilty Sparks
Ethernet-linked systems
To controller hands

He taught me inverted
Yeah, my Plum dog

Was the main cohort
In that digital-to-analog
K-8 bookended by
Volumes of all the eb Games trade-ins

And when we snaked through Sotheby’s
Just toe the line
And I hugged your mom
The last time

Those days of Nightfire and Azeroth—

So go, video my soul
‘cause this was so real, so real

And no rush to record
‘cause I’m just trying to feel

And I can’t deal

Match made for an oddball
Holding on until the time expires

To load up an old file
Is an old flame
That sparks harmonics on
A heartstring
You’ll see it’s worthwhile

Suggestion of a trial
To find perchance a reduction
Of basic elements through
A concourse of past times

Rendered worlds
Drawing through-lines
And stuttered sights
I stand, firmly anti-aliased to rewind

These games have brought
Clear resolutions and bleary tears

Graphical engines upgrading
As I doubled in years

And it’s strange
They’ve given me so much language
Strange how all these moving parts
Saved for my own arrangement

Still I feel myself anchored
Crazy as it sounds
I feel myself anchored

12 years-old, docked in Seyda Neen
My vocal chords now to express
This straining:

The first time I saved face on a cartridge
5 years-old there was moaning in a burning library
Strafing on a Blockbuster-rented
Leon Kennedy on crt
With barely read esrb
Big Rhys
On Lyric Avenue between alimony and Tracy

Generations of consoles to console
Private confirmation hearings
Marty O’Donnell soundscapes and
West Gash symphonies

Go, video my soul
‘cause this was so real, so real

No rush to record
‘cause I’m just trying to feel

And I can’t deal

Now now, the Full Frontal Incumbent
Thought nothing of it
Akin to something of an electoral puppet
Same script on the notarized budget:
An author’s note to a book of rhymes
Made public

To obfuscate that collection of overly-abstracted raps
He takes a momentary lapse
Dips the pen inside an inkwell
Dwelling on the right reference to
Sentimentalize a whole past well

Untaxed turns back with mindful inhalations
Citing source awards
With conflagrations

Now rejoicing with congratulations for what
Moments of childhood are recorded
And then stored

See well, an imaginary shoulder would hark here here
To tip a solemn head a little there there
Circumnavigating fetal innocence
Transpositions octaves of a younger life
To somewhere more free and bare
(like what?)

Go, video my soul
‘cause this was so real, so real

No rush to record
‘cause I’m just trying to feel

And I can’t deal

I’m documentarian, baby
Full definition

______________________

Flood session
Pizza, picture, essen
Retracing sketches
About another epoch:

After school flexing
Index’s the weapon
Information passed to
Guild raiders and brethren

Caravan to Karazhan
Tank buffed by power-words
Interior defended
(unseen, unheard)

Stadium Arcadium bumped through
Wet Sand Gateways
Unfurled through curls, braces
Farmer’s tans, race bait

Jumps out of the gym
Into punk bedrock
Niche in
Silent cartography, maps drawn
Written plots
Pixel polyglot, ravenous mind, stomach
Stopped decibels for gendered interaction
Noiseless pundit

Fuck kid—