We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Foist

from 44 by Mrs.Paintbrush

/

lyrics

Juvenile body at the bottom of the wave pool
That’s an automatic angel that’ll stay cool
Never idle like a sucker in a bank line
Stressing over credit ratings
They had a good time

Let’s get this it over and done
I lost my one
good leg, it rotted off, gangrenous
Bundle me up in fresh pine
And in no time
It will disinfect the dangerous
Parasitic bacteria
Don’t fret pen pals, mamma’s hear for ya
Anthracis bacillus in envelopes
Sniff the letterhead
That’s all she wrote

You should only wear biodegradable trash bags
Cause you’re bound to OD at your DA step dad’s

Blocks and blocks of luxury lofts
Pop up and pay laid off
Dumb ass cops to walk back and forth
To protect such slapdash
Half occupied nouveau riche crash pads

you’re going to shellac your brain with all those techno disco poppers
How are you going to be able to shoot triple letter agents out of black helicopters

Aloe Vera to soothe those ulcers
Debt collectors to feed gross vultures
Topical ointments
Tension in all joints

Shellac your brain, relapse, dissolve
Break up the band, eat dry aged steak,
Involve authorities,
They tried poison me orally
Pretty sure they’ll be Erased historically,
moral majority all stars, deaded
Carved length wise, bloodletted and beheaded
Your not living if you’re
Not squatting
Dead rich peoples
Beach houses
At rock bottom

I was Outta commission a minute
Now I can walk again
Bitten by a water moccasin
Ran outta oxygen
Could’ve been brain dead
Alas I remain
Physical therapy
Got me back in the high life again
You’ve got ex wives
You collect knives
Cheap Fantasy film replicas get wise
The depressed guys
That you tell sex lies
Loosen the fit on their synthetic neckties
No silk in sight no breathable fabrics
Addicted to predetermined digital magic
Individually packaged starchy snacks crackle underneath
Gross cross trainers with hot sauce
packet stains
Lame, you’re PreOrdained to face death so forgettably flaccidly
Nope Fuck shit let me die crisp
asphyxiate deep in space without gravity

credits

from 44, released September 19, 2021

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Mrs.Paintbrush image

Mrs.Paintbrush Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

contact / help

Contact Mrs.Paintbrush

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this track or account

If you like Mrs.Paintbrush, you may also like:

Bandcamp Daily  your guide to the world of Bandcamp

On Bandcamp Radio

Featuring interviews with LA music scene pillar Kamasi Washington, and new London-based duo Mrcy.

listen now