YOU THINK I’M HUMAN WITHOUT ANY RUBBER SKIN ON

DJ Narcodrone: mp3 = file format
DJ Keef: DSL = dirk sackin’ lops
DJ Narcodrone: melting bodies with stevia = fund the american war machine
DJ Keef: “Combat” brand roach poison = harvested FDR clone pheromones
DJ Narcodrone: combat with mom = my daily sociopathic ritual = wish my dad was the one judging me now
DJ Keef: “biological parents” = vat-grown cyborgs, their skulls packed with excised rat brains, then possessed by the metalectronic oversouls of the ‘lectroids, trying to keep you from achieving your full potential
DJ Narcodrone: daddy style = the appearance of myself with a cane expressing my skill as a lover to young women of the world = also repping my friend keef who helped establish my cred = honing of goetic magick in a texas swamp = love online for the first time in years
DJ Keef: Tiredness at mid-day = a harbinger of good things to come; the brightness of a lighter’s flash caught reflected in a side-view mirror; a crisp autumn pear cut in half to reveal no seeds inside, just blank white flesh all the way through; what the pit / stone / seed at the center of the moon actually looks like
DJ Narcodrone: You + me = road mirage = Luciferian tango = guiltlessness = the hint of salt = some Nordic blood = friends of whittlers = first sincere stone age smiling
DJ Keef: the future = my smile as heard through a long-distance telephone line; your realization of the relativistic geological distances between the plateaus and canyons of your own fingerprints, and the greater relevance of this differential; an unspooled cassette tape recorded backwards, then released from the cracked backseat window of a Ford Econoline Van as a missive to Mother Nature.
DJ Narcodrone: 🙂
DJ Keef: 🙂