flanged out

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Stoneman

The Stoneman is a name given by the popular English-language print media of Calcutta, India to an unidentified serial killer who murdered at least 13 homeless people in Calcutta during their sleep in 1989. The name is also given to the perpetrator of a similar series of murders in Bombay from 1985 to 1988. It has been speculated that these were the work of the same person, who could have been responsible for as many as 26 murders. The Stoneman was blamed for thirteen murders over six months (the first in June 1983), but it was never established whether the crimes were committed by one person or a group of individuals. The Calcutta Police also failed to resolve whether any of the crimes were committed as a copycat murder. To date, no one has been charged with … more »

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Flanged out on ya couch, I got wingspan
Stretch these limbs, learn to take what it brings, man
Handwriting makeshift, extract Stone from the scene with an airlift
And drop when he wakes at the base of mosaic
So soon as my eyelids stretch wide, I can take it
Motherfucking thief of ya steez
You ain't really got it like me
'Cause what I got like a skeleton key in my jeans

When I said flanged out, man, I meant it
Try to take a feeling that you felt when you bended
Like mind really spent, I put every square inch of my skin in my sentence
Got eyes on the entrance, I watch all these people
Take notes on they presence
If I was a car then I'd build my own engine
Flang in my pipe, this is a pipeline to heaven
If I was a car then I'd build my own engine

Grass was greener, now the grass is bleaker, I'm gon'
Down the liter, five inside the seater, bucket
Packing people, pack 'em, though the whip is feeble
Down the liter, f*ck it, I'm gon' down the diesel
Make my body zoom, shoot me out the cannon, I'm gon'
Rot inside the tomb, no, I'm gon' stick to plans and I'm gon'
Carry heavy tunes, shoulders breaking boulders, I'm gon'
Stick to writing runes, mind move like a motor, I'm gon'

This is not no simulation, this is real and you are lost
You are like another person, losing track of all my thoughts
I am drawn inside the lightbulb, I am winged, I am moth
We are scraping at the cracks along the windows and the walls
Birds of feather flock in heavy weather
Eye of storm is shrinking, I'm gon' cling to mortal tether
Grimy measures make for grimy pleasures
Ground is really sinking, ground is really 'plying pressure

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