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Track: Spastic Max

Artist: Ed Scissortongue

Album: Better.Luck.Next.Life

Producer: Lamplighter

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ED SCISSORTONGUE
  • It was 1999
  • Bonfire Night
  • When the red mist first enveloped his character traits
  • He found himself with no control over his fists wailing on some dickhead's face from his council estate
  • See many moons had passed since the hope of a 2 point 4 landlubber life style had been smashed into smithereens
  • It was a year ago this very day that the intravenous sludge pumping had taken off at a wild speed
  • He found himself a regular at the phone boxes
  • Cherry Lambrini
  • Bicarb from the corner shop
  • Back to the mould covered wormhole mattress stained practice bakky packs full of flints and butts stinking
  • Nuff guzzling drugs
  • Vein deposit lumps clogging his mug stuck in the mud the AM doth greet him
  • Spastic Max sat in a deluge of acid tabs
  • Flame retardant trackie pants and garage raps sketching
  • Seldom seen was he between A-to-B
  • Missions to spaghetti junctions paints on the underpass
  • Hanging off the highest bridge
  • Rangoose quackathon
  • Throwing breeze blocks through speeding windscreens passing
  • He would climb electricity mains and cut the power from his home town and roam the streets reeling in the panic and cotch in cul-de-sac hedgerows watching single mothers sparking matches in the darkness of their living rooms
  • His grief flourished like anthill communities
  • Couplets from an undercurrent colour source beneath the grey concrete corridors and monoliths in-and-around the pissy stairwells and pissy lifts in which he found his peace
  • Beneath the bread line
  • Bread knives sliced at the smart price car crimes carnage his hair greyed
  • Cracked enamel pegs inside a garbage pail kid cabbage patch tapping veins until the sun decayed
  • He moved inland for better dope
  • Cast away bastard face forgot the names of his school mates
  • He moved inland like seagulls sacking off trawler ship cast off's for landfill luncheon
  • The coastline haunted his thoughts and so he thought ever more about taking a saw to his neck side
  • He had visions of blood dripping over the floor of his four-by-four foot box bedroom next life
  • He'd open paperbacks but only paint the pages black and use a magnifying glass to spark a map of memories
  • Words would get deleted quicker than a 100 metre dash
  • Another night laden with some fear and loathing imagery
  • You might have known him
  • The man behind those ram raids
  • The man behind the letter bombs sent out to several primary schools
  • You might have known him as the dude who scampered down the side of your house and made off with your penny farthing bicycles
  • He used to watch the freight trains
  • He used to fish for carp and beat his catches to a rancid mush with heavy ended claw hammers
  • He used to sneak into the cinema and sit in front rows and laugh his head off to the hammer horror matinees
  • He used to talk to people and people used to talk him too
  • That was way before the crack the whores the drugs the sniffing glue
  • That was way before the days of simply nicking pissy booze and jumping queues of peeps shopping for shitty supermarket food
  • See life wasn't ship shape life was shit mate
  • Life was hookers tied to his bed frame with grip tape
  • Blindfolded piss games
  • Net curtains shit stained fist gape listening to Rick James' mixtapes
  • He was his mother's only baby pains
  • His mother's only labour day
  • His mother's one and only angel saint
  • His mother never thought she'd see her grave before the day that Max was raking cash and chasing pavements to the stock exchange
  • His mind felt heavy cracked skull matter case fragile flesh with lead brick sat inside throbbing
  • He felt his face change shape and time ebbing away the vital signs of life ankle deep inside a teak coffin
  • Sitting in the fourth dimension he felt the raw depression of forty horsemen stretching his organs awful essence
  • He was ever omnipresent as a portal peasant looking in the mirror clock a devil dressed in his reflection
  • During thunderstorms he found peace with life
  • He saw the rain as writing letters with Jesus Christ and with his fingers he'd scribe letters across the sky in the hope that constellations would free his mind
  • But deep inside his rancid flat
  • Light flicker movements mapped white face wrinkled grimace lager cans and bakky ash
  • Lost in the soil fodder
  • Spastic Max
  • Six foot two six foot box six feet deep inside the cancer tank.

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