Melting (feat. Headhaunter)

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Frit

A frit is a ceramic composition that has been fused, quenched, and granulated. Frits form an important part of the batches used in compounding enamels and ceramic glazes; the purpose of this pre-fusion is to render any soluble and/or toxic components insoluble by causing them to combine with silica and other added oxides. However, not all glass that is fused and quenched in water is frit, as this method of cooling down very hot glass is also widely used in glass manufacture. According to the OED, the origin of the word "frit" dates back to 1662 and is "a calcinated mixture of sand and fluxes ready to be melted in a crucible to make glass". Nowadays, the unheated raw materials of glass making are more commonly called "glass batch". In antiquity, frit could be … more »

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Time is frozen 'round me, started shifting, ground against
The shit I'm in midst of. Friction mounting, matter twisting, grounding, stitches bounding
From they're binds. Ticking fabric off of time. Arguments with fences blind
And on the other side, I see a pistol shouting
Cap is busted, tap of drums inside my head to match
Flash, brighter than the sun, pulled in, and my head is ash
Slash cracked, "sprinting to the car, how'd I get past?"
Whipping right and left, medula jellos in the back, ra-di-o

Why oh why, you running away?  
See you always try, not try, and slump and then fade
Once there was a time you'd reply with doubling haste
Don't let it pass by, quick strides and jump in your place

Barely speak, let ink stains scream like stank papes
Truck strewn across the pavement, find myself the same place
Can only hope that kinked veins speak with same grace
Lost my caution long ago, they wrap the scene in Blank Tapes

A thin film of sweat and I'm coughing up blue paste
Bouquets start to bloom out the suitcase
Hacking up oil on the ground 
Innards uncoil out my mouth on their own and then mutate
Roof caves in to two fog lights and a grill of defeated insects
It seems so stringent, the rules of reality just won't bend in these petri dishes

My pain receptors aren't deemed efficient, I'm mesmerized by the sight as the fires burn
The slow-mo tires turn, in time-time to configure, a well-done wider berth
Like it can hold a ragdolled burnt out match head topped body, that's falling up quick in a car-part volley
Eyes fixed on a twirling hatchet, all dropping, in sync, in an airborne slalom

Oh god I'm stuck in a stasis, crash course, expressionist painting where I'm at war
With shattered glass and the dangerous shrapnel stuck in time, a levitating castle
All avoid the ground, I hate to feel, radio swan song, no one takes the wheel
There's no come down, I won't make it real, no come down, I won't make it real

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