Disposable Soul
by Oliver Benjamin Thayer
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Digital Album
Immediate download of 4-track album in your choice of MP3 320, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now name your price
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42nd Street Superstars
03:03
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Suitcase Pimp
03:06
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Atlas Drugged
03:43
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credits
released 03 December 2011
tags
license
all rights reserved
feeds
feeds for discography
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Dec 2011 -
Aug 2011 -
Dec 2010 -
Apr 2009 -
Jun 2008 -
Sep 2006
contact / help
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- Track Name: 42nd Street Superstars
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There you are with your hands on hips and
Your sequin scarf and your man and your wristband
If your eyes were quicksand I would sink in ‘em,
Slink out with my fist full of snake venom
Here we are now, in this car now
1970 Pontiac and you’re a star now
And you’re gonna have your name up in lights,
Legs up in tights and we’re up for the night
And it’s gonna be a long one, I can’t wait
Set up the film reel, it’s a real date,
Shake it like primates, make the neighbors’ eyes dilate
By eight the planet will vibrate
Your fate is my fate so let’s film it all,
Screen it up in Times Square when they drop the ball
It’s a new year of squalor and luxury
Charge ‘em a buck or three
Girl, who the fuck are we?
Forty forty, second second, street street, super super,
Stars, stars, stars
Forty forty, second second, street street, super super,
Stars, stars, stars
Forty forty, second second, street street, super super,
Stars, stars, stars
Linda Lovelace, Pam Grier and Bruce Lee
Purple limo with the back seat Jacuzzi
Perfect place to shoot a sequel to the movie
Then, it’s on to part three with Nina Hartley
Broke, slanging coke by the arcades? Hardly
I invest in VHS and Atari
And the 80’s are coming up soon
Stick with me, baby, you’ll be coming up too
I got a moustache, cash and a stash of kush
You got a natural chest, plus you’re blessed with bush
And there’s no pressure to trim
Just jump on the waterbed naked and swim
Little mermaid, making sure you’re paid
No latex or safe sex because there’s no Aids yet
It’s the apex of squalor and luxury
Charge ‘em a buck or three
Girl, who the fuck are we?
Forty forty, second second, street street, super super,
Stars, stars, stars
Forty forty, second second, street street, super super,
Stars, stars, stars
Forty forty, second second, street street, super super,
Stars, stars, stars
Forty forty, second second, street street, super super,
Stars, stars, stars
Forty forty, second second, street street, super super,
Stars, stars, stars
Forty forty, second second, street street, super super,
Stars, stars, stars - Track Name: Spiked Punch for Breakfast
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I would bit your ear off for a Smirnoff
Cause I ain’t got shit but a weird cough
And it’s a weird slot machine that taught me
That only a mirror can appear and read your thoughts
I appear in the main stream mainly
As a gas so no mass can contain me
Aiming high cause I’m aimless, duck from a flash like I’m famous
I’m shamelessly spacious
Feng shui for these silly little idiots
With no condoms, cumming, making little shits
Who then grow up, learn how to drink then they throw up
All over the interior, but so what
I got a thousand bucks riding on this one hand
Trying to make it two grand, come up with a new plan
It’s all over baby blue man group band
Car chasing through the fruit stand
Spiked punch for breakfast
I would bit your nose off to get her clothes off
It’s not my fault her mama made her so soft
Sipping scotch at the end of the bar and
I’m one shot away from losing my guitar, man
I got nothing to lose, I got nothing to prove
Spilling government booze all over my shoes
And the blues built America
And if I wasn’t married, I’d apparently be scarier to Erica
So I told her I’m ambidextrous
And got a trunk full of drunk anorexics
Where’s my Lexus parked? Girl, I don’t know
I’m like a loan shark with a job that’s a no show
If you wanna go low, baby I will so go
Eyes bloody, overflowing with Soul Glow
Feeling so-so, the pony show’s over
Wake me in October, hopefully God’s sober
Spiked punch for breakfast
I would bite my own face for a lone trace
Of anything that resembles my own space
I caught a cold case but can’t quit like a nazi
At Nuremberg, still trying to cop a plea
I was doing as they told me, so why you gotta scold me
Just pour a little whiskey in this cold tea
So can I can sip it down slowly and watch you walk away, low key
Pretending that you don’t know me
I relate to O.G. sex workers
Concerned with sex, my next check and my next burger
Mixing murder with love ingredients
Nurse, remove your glove and fist obedience
Raise your fist if you pledge no allegiance
To any feet walking ‘round leaving greedy prints
Tip a few measly cents if you like it
And if you make punch I will psychically spike it
Spiked punch for breakfast
So you got a little drunk and reckless
Sold some little punk your necklace
Shot a little junk in Texas - Track Name: Atlas Drugged
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When I see the moonlight flicker and dance in your hair
I feel like Atlas has been drugged
And the world will just roll off his shoulders
Roll off his shoulders
When you adjust your stockings and stretch in your chair
I think my soul’s been unplugged
And I wanna just pull you in closer
Pull you in closer
Baby, I’ve been gone for awhile
When I’m back we’ll be rich
Baby, I’ve been gone for awhile
When I’m back we’ll be rich
When you laugh at the jokes that I tell when I’m down
I feel like Atlas has been drugged
And the world will just roll off his shoulders
Roll off his shoulders
Your mascara ran red on the wrong side of town
I knew my heart had been mugged
Now you keep it in your cigarette holder
Your cigarette holder
Baby, I’ve been gone for awhile
When I’m back we’ll be rich
Baby, I’ve been gone for awhile
When I’m back we’ll be rich
