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Forgot the Air Holes

from Desolate Pop by Yacob

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about

this song is lyrically related to the song "M.A.V." by the band Over, which i sing in.

lyrics

It was a bright morning when i climbed up the pistil of the flower in which i live. I plucked large chunks of pollen off of my appendages. The sun took up every side of my lines of sight but my perception was flawed. Everything was in cutup time. I would speak words which would hang in the air for a moment, evaporate, and then never have been. Nothing but the present existed, a stuttering film reel with the end-passing-in developing in hazy realization, and the end-passing-out being burned up immediately. My surroundings became concrete and i felt my place more firmly in the century i had been told in which i live. something was rolling across my body, stopped me in my steps. a sensation, a premonition. i turned around. as far as i could see up the city blocks were thousands of marching riot cops, faceless in gas masks ad helmets, carrying rifles, flash bang grenades, tear gas canisters, plastic shields. converging all towards my person. i began to run, looking for any alley to duck into but every building was cemented to the one next to it, windowless, doorless. This entire city is two massive walls and they forgot the air holes. My breath speeds up and is soon disappearing, i am hyperventilating. there is no more oxygen to grab into my tender esophagus, i see the molecules of O2 quickly running away from me, they have been informed by the police and are co-conspirators. i collapse onto the asphalt. Aren't there any tiny particles to breathe anywhere?? i see floating gonorhea, syphillis cells, but no more air. i turn to face the encroaching cops, the suns reflection obscuring any details in their faces. under one of the plastic face shields i see a bit of paper dangling. as the foremost pig nears, the lines in his face resemble a poorly cobbled together papier mache ovoid. i have a matchbook in my pocket, pull it out, light one and throw it. The police recoil, throw up their hands, and are all consumed in rapidly moving fire as they press limb to limb. They quaver like a field of windblown sunflowers, faces towards the sun, stamen and pistil tongues rolling out of their mouths in pain, petals of flame encircling their heads. Then they wither and die and crumble to ash, and are sucked heavenward/into the grey clouded sky by a cyclone of hot wind. It is the fastest season i have ever seen.

credits

from Desolate Pop, released February 24, 2012

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Albacore Records Oakland, California

Albacore Records was started in Mobile, AL in 2001 by Yacob as a means of releasing small runs of musical projects, usually in cd-r or tape form. Now in Oakland, CA. This website will be used to document the most recent creative outpourings of these various projects. Releases by KLACTOVEEDSEDSTENE, THE SACK EM UPS, TFFW'z, JIBBER AND TWITCH, YACOB, and SISSY FISTS. Yacob also sings in OVER. ... more

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