Goo-Goo-G’Joob Drift
cinematic lo fi psychedelic poetry trip absurd surrealism in the style of a calm cool basement psychosis episode captain beefheart whispered through a cloud of smoke meets gentle Psychedelic Rock, Indie Rock, Synth-Pop dream haze and soft Hip Hop, Alternative Hip Hop, Experimental, R&B introspection zero fucks poetic absurdity elevated to smooth radio ready underground chill genre soft psychedelic lo fi hip hop surreal ambient poetry rap dreamy avant garde chillwave basement psychosis pop tempo 72 88 bpm gently swaying and subtly warping like a slow breathing organism key warm detuned e minor floating into soft modal haze and gentle resolutions structure intimate gravel whisper intro soft intricate verse dreamy slurred pre chorus floating anthemic soft chant chorus hazy dripping verse whispered to gentle meltdown bridge final soft glowing chorus ethereal dissolving outro vocal delivery smooth premium male performance intimate deep gravel whisper
Goo-Goo-G’Joob Drift
cinematic lo fi psychedelic poetry trip absurd surrealism in the style of a calm cool basement psychosis episode captain beefheart whispered through a cloud of smoke meets gentle Psychedelic Rock, Indie Rock, Synth-Pop dream haze and soft Hip Hop, Alternative Hip Hop, Experimental, R&B introspection zero fucks poetic absurdity elevated to smooth radio ready underground chill genre soft psychedelic lo fi hip hop surreal ambient poetry rap dreamy avant garde chillwave basement psychosis pop tempo 72 88 bpm gently swaying and subtly warping like a slow breathing organism key warm detuned e minor floating into soft modal haze and gentle resolutions structure intimate gravel whisper intro soft intricate verse dreamy slurred pre chorus floating anthemic soft chant chorus hazy dripping verse whispered to gentle meltdown bridge final soft glowing chorus ethereal dissolving outro vocal delivery smooth premium male performance intimate deep gravel whisper
Lyrics
Nah. I AM the bag. I AM the dough.
I’m the void chewing its own tail in zero-G.
I lick my brain in silence, squeeze the gray meat like a stress-ball full of distant lightning,
Midget man in my medulla throwing tiny parties with a switchblade made of childhood dreams.
Tentacles unfurl like worm-lips kissing the wrist of forgotten cosmos,
Yellow jackets buzzing lazy round my hair-hive, red devils painting soft carbon fire
on the dashboard of a ’49 Chevy that never learned how to die.
Barbed-wire fireworks dissolve into napalm rainbows across wild parades,
Walrus Eggman spilling glitter while magnets slow-dance sideways
in the north pole of quiet chaos.
Everything’s turning soft, soft, soft…
Mutilated lips give a lazy kiss on the wrist of the universe’s wildest lullaby.
I’m fine. Just floating on fresh brine and the aftertaste of ego evaporation.
BULBOUS AND FREE, LET THE CHAOS BE
Goo-goo-g’joob, just drift with me
BULBOUS AND FREE, LET THE CHAOS BE
Nothing matters and it feels so sweet
I’m the hobo shanghaied in a banana bin full of oriole breasts and wooden-tit goddesses,
The taste of chaos like Pepsi and existential thunder rolling soft in the distance.
Still devoured it all ‘cause rules are for those still pretending tomorrow exists.
I’m wild and untamed in the calmest way—obsessed, deranged,
oozing out your speakers like warm smoke since before the world learned how to lie.
Gross and perverted in the sweetest fractal swirl,
slime emissary of the cosmos wearing a trench coat stitched from shredded realities.
Listen not to what I said… the midget’s already on fire in the softest glow
and the tentacles are wearing my face like a quiet Halloween mask.
I just ate the apostrophe… crunch.
BULBOUS AND FREE, LET THE CHAOS BE
Goo-goo-g’joob, just drift with me
BULBOUS AND FREE, LET THE CHAOS BE
Nothing matters and it feels so sweet
You got me now. And I don’t give a single flying fuck through the fractal.
See you on the other side wearing constellations as a bolo tie.
Mic drop into the warm heat-death of language.