Gothic Psychedelia
Prologue
This is what happens when you decide to listen to music designed for trippy summer nights by a Mediterranean sandy beach on a wet windy winter night, instead by a British North West poisonous sea-lake
Take it Or leave it.
Tame Impala’s Currents
West Kirby style.
Lunar hairs I swallow ~ wow ~ (Each one) ~ Fluid Silver Thin Hollow Night shards I crash ~ Ahh. shh ~ (Full body) ~ Sharp Acid Shiny Grand Fur feathers I touch ~ ouch ~ (Them all) ~ Too sweet Oily Thick Slow Slowly Deep Dripping fonts Absorb me ~ zzrem ~ (Please. Me) ~ Misty Dense Foamy Bent
Intratextual (I read)
Intrasexual (I guess)
Inside another black and white cave cage case
(What [a] Mess) ~ ~ Waves Wave ~ ~ Let them .awe. Be ~. ~ ~ Black tongue (The hairs) Broken skin (The glass) Nausea (Yes: This feathery Oily Bliss) Nausea (No. Just Bubbly Typo~Graphy)
(What [a] Shame) ~
I get to the other side of this liquid forest
Out of this ~ ~ ~v ~ ~ c a ~ g ~ e ~ ~ ~s ~ ~ You'd never know I've passed [swam] through If you look twice you may notice what I've lost : These nails (mine) Gone : In their absence fingers and toes spell names waves .Awe . ~ ~ ~ They Glow ~ ~ ~