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Who's Who and the What, What's EP

by Tooantuh

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  • Streaming + Download

    Purchasable with gift card

     

1.
Live. See. Go. Be. Live. Whoa. See. Go. Cum. Felicity never wore no frown on her face Good fortune and martyrdom were here trades She never once stopped smiling as those rocks flew at her Well, the past is the present and the present in the future’s now The Holy Bible, Qur’an, Torah, Ecclesiastes, Confucius, Tao 1,2,3,5,7,11 cut across a bathroom stall We are all one and indivisible according to that old law Hemingway caught a fish then he wrote a book About the pleasantries of living, with a modern hook While the misanthropist marched to his own silent banter Weishaupt was a benevolent brandishing a mace Bonafide philanthropist with a German name His faith in the self Lived beyond all of that slander Well, the past is the present and the present is the future’s now The Holy Bible, Qur’an, Torah, Ecclesiastes, Confucius, Tao 1,2,3,5,7,11 cut across a bathroom stall We are all one and indivisible according to the law Burn it up. Pulled apart the draperies and the cavalcade Pulled apart the clouds and everything was a point, Vibrating at the speed of sound. Speaking. Then there was me. 4ft 3. Meek. Holding a torn sheet which read Live, and burn it all down.
2.
When I go out I always make sure to say, “Hey li’l lady! Hey li’l Heidy-O!” When I take my dog down that pavement runway I say, “Hey li’l lady! Hey li’l Heidy-O!” When I go out at night Oh, yeah! I go out at night Okay, I don’t go out at night, But if i went out at night I’d say, “Hey little Heidy-O!” It’s a Fritz Lang film That we both live in Oh! Hoo! Li’l Heidy, hey You got me reeling, with those big blue eyes, Little white thighs… Hey li’l Heidy-O
3.
SpyGlass 03:19
Sitting on my mountain top looking in the valley Oh, so low. Looking through my spyglass seeing all the people dancing down Below There’s a stream-line cable leading down, bending under To that sepulvida scene Picking up speed to the lips and the smiles That are waiting for me I’d rather speak in person. Sitting on a stone in a ring around a throne Of fire. We’re alive. It’s overcast city, but there’s light emanating from The itty-bitty fireflies. There’s a moon in a bottle making it’s way around the circle And it’s heading straight for me. One little sip and I’m cherry-cheeked, arm and arm Being led into a sea of dwellings I’d rather sleep with company.
4.
“I’ve got the blues—swam right in, unannounced. Thing is, the blues isn’t recognized as a legitimate ailment as much as a brand with an accompaniment of talented drunkards with track-marks. People say it’s a state of mind. That you’re in the cock-pit: A deity of your own universe. I’m listening to Thelonius Monk. He sounds like a dilapidated house with ripped and dirty shag carpet- 3,2,4 steps missing between each remaining step- leading up to a loft- winding up to a ceiling of swirling smoke. Speaking of.. The thing about these people who claim the blues don’t exist is they begin orating scripted chapters of their personal time-lines thus unknowingly divulging their own personal encounters with the blues, herself. Melancholy is an invisible boa constrictor. However, I do somewhat buy the idea that once commodified, the blues became insatiable. We had, for all intents and purposes, given it a name. What we call work was designed by people who decided to pioneer a job with absolutely no intrinsic value, whatsoever. No skills will take root and bud in this vortex. We’re still on that ride. What we call work is to slay our brothers and sisters and to do that we must meditate on a vision. A vision of wolves gnashing their teeth. A vision of canines consuming everything in their path and spilling excrement on a constitution designed to be malleable in a nation under God. God. He who had his eyes on a cloud in a cottage with an orchard, a wrap around porch, a jacuzzi tub, with a tempur-pedic mattress, H.D.T.V., a pup named Trevor and a vault. A vault! What’s in there? Many have speculated it’s the head of his son, who used to sit as his right hand, now in pieces in a bag contained in adamantium so that victory is secure in the next primaries. He’s totally got this…” “Can I bum a cigarette?”
5.
Winter whispered secrets in my head. Oh, yes she did. Stumbled across the soft webs and pushed aside the vignettes, in my bed. Whisper a little, please. Harking on that bedpost pleases me, But don’t brush away those seeds. I want a forest greeting me In December The air coiled closer and pushed the button on my chin. Oh, yes she did. My legs jumped, chest pumped and cheeks spread to a newborn grin. Oh, that’s a fact. I begged, “Give me a kiss, my darling, And we’ll grow older and taller for all to see. I hear the droll the doldrums makes one breathe easy.” The sea had to swell it’s an earthen formality. “I’m hungry,” it bellowed and began to swallow me. No malice. No regret. My home is down below. Goodbye cold days. Goodbye tomorrow. I have learned to love them all
6.
Saw through the drought from a far away place Inside the eye of a satellite We will make cloud. We'll make it rain, and the buoyant will rise up through the firmament To shake the hands of I Saw the drought at the springs And the fountain Saw the fields burn at the farms We will make clouds. We'll make it rain Your hair was rusty so I combed my hands through the tendrils of your body Your eyes were dusty so I closed mine and cried into your mind, for a time.
7.
I remember smells from my dreams. We climbed bookshelves up to our thoughts Where we erected a brick; a block; a bridge Across sinking, stagnant potential. I will loosen my jaw and inhale all of the poverty from the streets. The malaise steeping in your brains will stain all of my teeth. I’ll blow out all the men in suits and watch them twirl around, above. When I’m feeling real real nice, I’ll blow out love, love, love.

about

1st of three make-believe EPs. I just like making music. FREEEEE

credits

released May 10, 2011

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Tooantuh Austin, Texas

Storyteller that owns 2 and a half guitars
No label/not really seeking one

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