Busdriver – Happiness’s (Unit of Measurement)
from Fear of a Black Tangent (2005) /hip hop/
“You punk about twenty styles per stanza but who cares because I’m frustrated, my records don’t sell, and I can’t seem to book a decent gig, and my indie label is understaffed, and these MIDI cables won’t connect the drum pads to the PA system, and my DD’s wasted, and I’m barely able to feed my kid. And I hate my dad, I don’t want to visit. I need to put new brake pads in my Honda Civic. And I need offers in for the new producer to do the remix but it’s hard to recoup when he’s paid and I’m startin’ to shoot my screenplay on Martin Luther King Day so I’m basically over-budgeting… QUITE SCREWED!”
A green velvet seat cover. Might be nice if it wasn’t in a molded out back room, stacked and stuffed with detritus, and covered in cracker-crumbs. Ripped and revealing crumbling yellow foam within. Subtle brown coffee stain. Twitch. Coffee. Hand moves down toward the pen pinned under yesterday’s crossword. Pause. Reconsider. Hand moves toward unbatteried remote. Pause. Reconsider. Hand moves toward armpit. Scratch. Pause. Creaking legs. Foot moves toward bookshelf. Pause. Reconsider. Foot remains. Foot moves toward TV. Hand switches the sticky dial. Over-oranged sitcoms commence and fuzz. Twitch. Reconsider. Foot moves to the similarly attired kitchen. A scuffed carton of orange juice regurgitates the last of its faintly soured guts into a red plastic cup. Tastebuds are intrigued (not overly pleased, but at least they have something to do). Vague refreshment. Pause. Reconsider.
if anyone can make out the lyrics better i would rejoice. i’m pretty sure i got a few wrong and the internet doesn’t want to help me.