Sherbert (Official Audio)

LISTEN/BUY: https://rse.lnk.to/IHIAMTT MUSIC/MERCH: https://AesopRock.com Video Credits: Illustrated and animated by Justin “Coro” Kaufman Audio Credits: Produced, written & performed by Aesop Rock. Cuts by Forest Pond. Mixed by Joey Raia. Mastered by Joe LaPorta at Sterling Sound, NYC. Project coordinated by K. Beacham, E. Williams, A. Everson & J. Daley. Executive produced by I. Bavitz, S. Daley & B. Sayers. Lyrics: A little something plucked from the port authority Dunkin’ Fritter still on his fingers, exquisite corpse and curmudgeon I stick a fork in a forgery like a sword in a stomach Hit the corner store for cash, and corner formula one-in’ Down to run in to whatever local folklore summon A pair of horns in the forest, dividing tourist and luggage Or an apparition back in the building and hacking flat screens Something a mother could love and monster hunter maltreat Hallowed be the porterhouse sear, who’s asking? Oil in the skillet, 6 minutes each facet, and fat Pat of butter, had to bat it past the biome Sometimes you gotta pass a pack of matches to the Pyro And when the pirates eat, ya sneak a rabbit to the coyote Then plant a couple trees and hope it average to a high note Behind the door another door, it’s torture to the prying eye Another 4 or 5, it’s sure to climb to my oh my I die inside and all the whining turn to "I've arrived” My 2nd life I’m like the Lion-o with the light up eyes Get in line with how we loom in the swamp It’s where no matter what you grew up on, the future is Goth It’s where no matter what your shoes are do the hooligan bop In fact let’s bring out every shoe that we’ve mocked I was being a ass, splendor bender, in the sauce with the radicals Clash with the officers, talk to the animals, look You could be the hero of the whole thing You could be the watcher in the wait You could be the likes of which we ain’t seen Just not today, no not today Just not today, no not today Just not today, no not today The Bonobo recognizes its reflection Immediately followed by the signs of hypertension And how the science fails you when your scent defies convention There’s nothing in the text about the ventures I excel in There’s nothing indirect about the shell that I’m myself in Or the pelt that I rebel in with the shrunken-head lapel pin Television with the VCR built-in It’s where my lady knit a scarf and let the Dark Crystal spin Warlock summer camp, soups on all day Get yourself a spoon before the noodles up and crawl away Tunnel through the undergrowth, his phone think he on a plane Duty calls for the Baddest Brute in Baldur's gate Wide-striped rugby, in with a somersault Out with the golden coin purse and cursed monkey paw File it with the bobby brady tiki And things that could potentially accommodate a genie I write postcards from after the afterburner Where I’m hoping someone put a backup version on the server First. but first the block party hamburglar Who also fill a thermos up with punch made of sherbert And skrrrrt, to the moon, the sometimes astronaut’s 3-2-1 ignition like a sunrise at Angkor Wat Aiming at your avatar, bringing y'all the breaking news Breaking up your little club, steady ricocheting fools You could be the hero of the whole thing You could be the watcher in the wait You could be the likes of which we ain’t seen Just not today, no not today Just not today, no not today Just not today, no not today