Toro Y Moi - Blessa* [mp3]
*The song that the below text is based on is called Dead Pontoons. You can hear it on the MySpace page linked below. I could not find the MP3 on these here internets.
The polished fog of a Columbia column spiraled stairways fell you down Finlay Park falls. I spend a little time taking in the sight of an authentic homeless homer spending some time trumping up the rights of those without a roofer, toss three dimes and an unknown utterance of undispair their way, sharing thoughts on the current economic situation and each of you eats dines from the little yellow Styrofoam foaming at the mouth, it’s been eight hours since that guy last had a bite. From Finlay frowns follow most exits, a family from the suburbs shoots off an email to The State in an effort to curb the infestation infecting inside of our city parks and I keep your stroll floating forward, strolling across assembled automotive asses I pass Assembly making mainlines my mind wanders thoroughly at the chain link walkways lining our sides, connecting second buildings beyond, a cave a tunnel a light the sun sets on Main Street tonight.
“It’s not different now then it’ll ever be.”
A quick pass through paltry surroundings sunset driveways findings and remaindered remnants, payday pioneers parade about unlimited interest rates, unsecured loans let loose lying and eating our every orifice outcries loudly, a tax collector distributor evader away is each door and downer in a city of one-twenty. The Columbia calendar calculates the difference in time between arrival and departure, our collapsed spirits and soaring lungs leap laughter from the depths of bank towers and fried-chicken establishments. In fact, I went the other day by bicycle dangerously daring escalding devils destroy Eddy every pass of the mirror breathing lightly on the tips of my shoulder, I shoved my frame fast thru paved hills to the nearest drive-thru Chinese eatery and de-seated, repeated re-heated re-eated orders from failed phone forays, waited in line first to hear every evasion of fried chicken recited in resounding order before re-stating, “Vegetable lo mein with tofu, vegetable fried rice and crab rangoons.”
“I don’t think we’ll have enough battery.”
The cries from Columbia emanating from The Whig wiggle rightly up the stairs, declared unsightly underground our seamy underside flies flaggingly, rebels with a cause to shout from the capital steps, a rust domed array of protest we listen to rage dancing, our plight feasting a misty blast of cleverly swirling swinging for the fences our ambient beach house bright as a button pressed presently at the night, I and her and they too we pay pittance to Pabst Blue Ribbon, a dear dollar departed for the fight. Our mouths filling full of might, we share stories of sound checks and open mics, stumble dry to desert the bar, our quarters jammed jukebox jailhouse rock, a jolly good time for all. In the inner space in-between a brick wall and earth, inhale exhale announces our addictions, I pronounce then and there to a startling stage of stargazers, our mantra grows with grace and our lover, Toro Y Moi joins just because.
“It won’t be long til we all go back to our open arms in the bigger cities.”
Toro Y Moi is a rhythm and blues band from South Carolina. The featured song is from an upcoming untitled album, hopefully. Purchase the music at Amazon | Insound | eMusic.
