Coffee by Aesop Rock feat. John Darnielle ¤ Comments: 0
| 24th Feb 2008 | 320 x 240 | 15.4 MB | 3:49 | wmv |  |
| 24th Feb 2008 | 480 x 360 | 36.5 MB | 3:49 | wmv | |
| 24th Feb 2008 | 640 x 480 | 67.8 MB | 3:49 | avi | |
| Notes | Commissioned and conceived by Thuvia Ptarth for Sweet Charity. Thuvia has posted commentary on the thinking behind the vid here; I've posted my own notes here. |
| Lyrics | we don't need no walkie-talkies, nope, no walkie talkies we don't need your coughing when offing the morning coffee, no we don't need no walkie-talkies, nope, no walkie-talkies we just want our hermitry to stay and our coffee to go and the last shall be first to immerse in the pass-out heat, face in the mud where the moxie melt 'til he woke up drowning in tchochke hell more in a cave with a torch on the wall than a window arrangement of porcelain dolls on a brand new day saw what he saw property owners who crawl to the mall with a bad toupee and a face like you author the law face like you're mourning a loss right hand on a can of worms left full of gold he will trade for turf i mean that's okay, you got to answer to you at the end of the volatile day but a model of mercy and might? no way, marionette who will clap and obey dude, look, all that noise? call that flight of the water boys, meet and greet and they all slap five cheek to cheek when they colonize and a grown-ass man shall abide as he wish, walk that path with a dime and a stick, walk that path with a diamond and wine, walk that path to the firing line, just walk, pay no mind to the new recruit with the play-doh spine, let's be friends from opposite ends, wave to the kid, don't hop on the fence, play to the radius far and away, orbit wide don't park in his space, one little martyr who talk in his face make one little Weatherman sharpen the blades. we don't need no walkie-talkies, nope, no walkie talkies we don't need your coughing when offing the morning coffee, no we don't need no walkie-talkies, nope, no walkie-talkies we just want our hermitry to stay and our coffee to go and the last shall be first to the curb with the mad-cow meat, face in the bars of a regular cell when he woke up high in collectible hell, boomtown kid who was taught by the binge that the man who expires with the most shit wins, that's warpy american nonsense penned by the rich, not a routine friend in a pinch, still not used to the stench, how it throws off otherwise lucid events, in the case the afraid observe i got a pro-keds box full of layman's terms, it goes hey, peace, pray for the plagued, major relief from capacious rains, but just cuz i don't want to war with you, it don't mean go warm up the barbecue, i'm like, pardon you, sawed-off limit, my high noon is a quick little minute, i don't wanna spend it sitting with a critic who simply isn't gonna ever really get it, this HQ is alive and alone, no driveway, no sign of a home, no dial tone, no line for the phone, no world's tiniest violin song, and i might just lie to them all, lying in the morgue with a deep breath hiding and bored, fighting a smile, highly annoyed, when the timing is right i will rise and record, call for the monster beats and blockhead got animal drums like he's doctor teeth, it goes red light green light 1 2 3, one large coffee, fuck you, peace. T-A-K-E-N-O-P-R-I-S-O-N-E-R-S john darnielle: i crawled down to the basement when the weather got cold, like a lost lamb returning to the fold, and when the outside world recedes from view, it's just a year's supply of make-up and memories of you, 1967, colt 45, holding back the vampires, keeping me alive, there's an envelope with some cash in it out by the front door, this is what they make you take the medication for |