1. |
Game One
05:33
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(intro languages are Cebuano and Aklanon):
(CEBUANO) Magdula ta
(AKLANON) Mag hampang kita
(AKLANON) Ako ay bantug nga pianista
(CEBUANO) Ug bantug kang pianista, putlon naku ang bukton nimo, unsay himu-on nimo
(AKLANON) Kon putlon ko ro imo nga butkon, ako ay mahimo nga bantug nga pintor
(CEBUANO) Ug bantug kang pintor? Putlong naku ang usa ka bukton nimo, unsay himu-on nimo
(AKLANON) Kon putlon mo ro akon nga bukton sa pihak, ako ay mahimo nga bantog nga taga magnogsa-ot
(CEBUANO) Ug bantug kana mananayaw, putlong naku ang bati-is nimo, unsay him-on nimo?
(AKLANON) Kon putlon mo ro akong nga bati-is, ako ay mahimo nga bantug nga manganganta
(CEBUANO) Unsay himu-on nimo ug putlon naku ulo mo, bisan bantogan nang mangangawit
(AKLANON) Kon ako ay patay na, ro akon nga panit hay mahimo nga manami tambol
(AKLANON) Ano kung sinong ko ro tambol?
(CEBUANO) Unsay mahimo ug masunog ang tambol?
Let us play a game, I am a famous pianist
If you’re a famous pianist and I cut off your arm, then what will you do?
If you cut off my arm, then I’ll become a famous painter
If you’re a famous painter and I cut off your other arm, then what will you do?
If you cut off my other arm, then I’ll become a famous dancer
If you’re a famous dancer, and I cut off your legs, then what will you do?
If you cut off my legs, then I’ll become a famous singer
If you’re a famous singer and I cut off your head, then what will you do?
If you cut off my head, then once dead, my skin will become a beautiful drum
What if I burn the drum?
Then I’ll become a cloud and my rain will produce a harvest of war
You win
O, I’m going to miss you when you’re gone
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2. |
CUT
05:16
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I catch your knife
I catch your knife again
I catch your knife
I catch your knife again
And I know all these little cuts are unintentional, don’t
Take it personal
And I know all these little cuts are unintentional, don’t
Take it personal
I make my life
Fuckin luscious with you or without
Can’t choke my fire
I burn this whole house down
And I know all these little cuts are unintentional, don’t
Take it personal
What drives your heart commands the bus you throw me under, don’t
Take it personal
Lost a hero and a friend
To your insecure projections
Your jealousy is not my problem
So don’t make it more than your own
Instead of cutting me
When you’re so quick to project such cruelty
‘Cause we
We own it
We own it like a child
Like we own you
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3. |
Stick Figures
06:02
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Crimson child
Falls
Give it up, give it up to the ten, No
She couldn’t, how could?
American myths afire in the hostel, these bare bodies dry
Red
Them embers burn under
Who’s gonna lie alone?
Who’s gonna lie alone?
Away we go, who will take the fault?
Dreams of flying and falling down
Don’t tell me to come if you’re not ready to go
Don’t look at me like that
Oil and rye glow
Wicked soft, our history knows these heavy mirrors
I can suck the sunshine from your skin
True Vesuvial love spit-firing
Who’s gonna lie alone?
Who’s gonna lie alone?
Same story goes, who will take the fault?
Dreams of flying and falling down
Don’t tell me to come if you’re not ready to run away with me
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4. |
Mmmh
08:29
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Sway
Hey, guess what I’ve got
Ooo yeah, guess what I’ve got
It’s a nice big fat
Nice big fat
Crush on ya
So heavy
Your love moves like water
Release your envy, then we can begin
And how you stoke the fire
My metaphor dripping down your chin
Let it all out
Let it all go
Trade your shame for playful pain, your heart begets
The will, the right to feel the bite
O my delicious beast, lay your philosophy on me
I am no safe place, I’m no container
Just combing through your quartz and cool debris
Build a shell that echoes from the chambers of our mouths intersecting as the insects shout and stars dive down into entropic seas
Ooo yeah
I am no safe place, I’m no container
Just combing through your quartz and cool debris
Build a shell that echoes from the chambers of our mouths intersecting as the insects shout and stars dive down into entropic seas
Fuel behind your wheel, I wanna run you
Excite but never satiate your drive
Peering through your depths I see all that I ever was and ever wanted all at once
We don’t fall in love, we rise
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5. |
Yo banana boY
06:32
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I’ve been waiting for this moment
Thank all your lucky stars cuz I’m about to
Drag ya
Drag ya
She might make it down
She might make it down
She might make it, make it down
Ooo
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6. |
Passion Play
06:12
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Slow soaking in
Swollen vibrations
Slick clever fingers dig into my
Bold gushing pie
Fantastic Oozing
Blasting through paper doors, he inks me
Seeped overseas
Big swell suspension
Embrace your shadow fox, he serenades
Her bound in smoke
Bow down before your queen
Perpetuating luscious
Event horizon
Cut from her right hip
Tangled within
Hot harem offerings
When love so freely flows, odds are you’re never lonelier than most
Quick to compose her flesh
Of saccharine silk sonnets
Those odes to women
Go like
Now now now, boy
It ain’t what we thought
You were raised to believe you’re exceptional we know you’re nah-nah-nah-nah not
Perpetual content production, slave to the consumed
Born into your seat, manifest destiny
An indoctrination vacuum
Appalled by the walls of your bubble, so shiny
Escape to your yoga retreat beach, stop whining
Nevermind the natives, we can market the term Sacred just like Raw, Organic for the Hip, White, Rich, and Privileged boasting Radical Inclusion
If you can afford such delusion
Just to wrap it up, then what is love but a corporate rainbow of a drug?
I’m down from my body
Are you your body?
Struck dumb for means to empathize but he’ll feel my body
Flatter yourself Feminist, how you run run your mouth then shit on Riot Grrl musicianship
Missed the point, a brown woman’s voice shaking, threatening his body-governing choice
We found the strength and the power in noise
Honed it, we own it, formidable poise
And we have had this
Conversation already
You’re thick with selective memory
Just ‘cause you’re calling me Queen don’t mean you decide my boundaries
You all gush and no substance, straight violated my trust
Lost access to this prime pussy, you narcissist bombing love
I’m beholden to sex
Abused for my sex
Decolonize sex to remember our bodies
You knew the line
I drew it so nicely
I won’t be defined by your mess
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gushes New York
gushes is ceremonial art-prog by intermedia performance artist Jennae Santos, who was born in the California Bay Area, lives in Brooklyn, and traces their bloodlines across the Philippines. Fed by these urban and queer, powerful and dramatic, vibrant and reverent coastlines, their sound converges chamber prog psychedelia, G-funk, jazz noir, drone, and kulintang with Afro-Latin rhythms. ... more
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