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Five Ounce Mouth

by Chauncey Gardener

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1.
Cash Money 02:39
Let’s be clear from the start, I don’t have it. And I should impart I can’t stand it. And I know in my heart I’m not stranded due to anyone’s part, but I was handed a beautiful portrait of big screens and new wheels, and I’m sure I'll afford it cuz I got a great deal where I don’t have to pay shit until the calendar turns. Then it’s just a little payment and besides I can earn some good credit. So the next thing I want, I can get it. Keep up this glossy front. I don’t regret it. How could I when it’s this fun? And not yet, it hasn’t set in so let’s run to the new store that opened on the good side of town. Reaching higher and higher so I know I can't drown. Hey, you feelin’ ok? Yeah, me too, I'm just checking. Making sure you don’t feel like we’re headed straight for a reckoning. No, I won’t worry just as long as you don’t. I guess it all could cave in, but I know that it won’t. I’ll just pick up some extra hours and eat smaller for dinner. I can’t get rid of this stuff, it’s how I know I’m a winner. We can’t sustain this kind of livin. We got fucked in the brain, and we thought it was a given that we have to attain a certain status, because they’re at us with their ads to buy the next apparatus. But I’m sick and fucking tired of tryin’ to cover my neck and not knowin’ how the hell we’ll make it to the next check. And I’m eatin’ all my chicken with a pair of cheap forks, yo cuz butterknives are useless on a hunk a’ greasy bones. Hold up. My money owns me. This shit is backwards as fuck. Now I’m ready to acknowledge that a little’s enough. Said a little’s enough, I mean a little’s enough. Say it with me I’m in debt (x5) I owe a lot of money to people I’ve never met. By the time that I earn it, it’s already spent. We’re in debt (x4) We owe each other money though we’ve never met. By the time that we pay it, It’s already been spent. Fuck.
2.
Being There 01:56
Some confused dudes blew a fuse and ruined the tour. Use skewers, lose fewer shrooms on the barbecuer. Stones are never blue; they stay red just like a ruby jeweler. Juicy grains will make ya cough if you can’t handle the Dewar’s. Often in my office, no scoffin or closed-off thinking. Loftin’ up an offer softer than an author's brush when the ink’s dry. Like a coffin's not, the door's always open, a far cry from a glass container, but ain't it ajar, guy? A tall grind, or do they call it grand-e? A royal size of chocolate or a small bite of candy. Acting grander than a plan from pinky and the brain. Now the water main has got a kink, I think oughta rain. So who’s got a mop? Grab a rag and get to soppin; soak it up across the lot then work your way back again. Vacuumin’ with acumen, got the strength of a stack a’ men. Sweepin’ up the best of em, beat the test by factors of ten, my friend. The garden man, hardened by the prickly plants; callouses so set you’d be he fret the guitar with his whole damn hand. Left your hide scarred and tanned, thefted like a bargain brand, take a glad candle waft before you grab the Zoloft. Does the robin stress about whose nest is best or passing its next test or when its wings will rest? Or simply focus on the seeds that it needs, while the life that it leads watches one moment bleed into the next. No historical text or futuristic plans, just where it should land, and on which branch to stand. Find a worm to catch as the baby birds squirm and hatch, before you know it, they’ll be out tryin’ to earn they scratch.
3.
Flowers 02:35
It’s an automatic response like a calculated procedure: when the easy times are gone and the stress begins to cease ya, wanna reach for that friend, the one that lives inside an old mint box, and let the hazing begin– but trade your paddles for flint rocks. Cuz i’m talkin hazy and lazy, this dried flower that fades me. At the right hour it takes me to a place where grape nuts are gravy. I mean it evens things out, gives life a homogenous feel, smoothes down the differences between what I wish I had and what’s real. It’s time to take a little break, my head is full i need to vacate. Get me to a place that’s anywhere but where my face is. It’s closer to my reach than tryin’ to find a lovely beach. At least for 40 minutes it’s a great stress relief. Problems made by the way you solve them. Ignore that shit and it’ll start evolvin. Don’t fix it if it hasn’t wrecked you, you’ll never change and you should not expect to You see, I’m making a spark. It’s a sharp inhale out in the dark. “Why are the lights out?” you said, cause everyone else went to bed. So now I’m smokin’ alone, damn, this dependency has grown. But if I hide it well enough, maybe I won't even have to know. And the whole time i’m thinkin’ “Chauncey there’s a better course of action, ya know, there’s, like, exercise or meditation. Just please find a better way of relaxin. Or remember that your therapist said that he could prescribe you some medication. But don’t forget to call him your counselor when you bring it up in conversation.” Cuz god forbid I’d need help, or admit that i’m terrified just to talk to anyone else I mean, it’s just easier to self-prescribe. And then to wrap it all up inside, the safest option is not emoting. Just go on in silent suffrage, or, shit, is that the thing about voting? It doesn’t matter whether it’s the former or the latter. Tethered to a sinking brick ladder. Even though you climb and you climb, it’s a trick and you’ll drown given enough time.
4.
We Steal 03:20
Oh no, here comes the bullied white rapper defending himself from his alleged black rapper attackers. He’ll fight back, like "Yeah, I'm white, but why the fuck does it matter?" Then provide a list of examples where race is clearly a factor. Or he might convey his hardships, how he had no pot to piss in, just tragic anecdotes between the music intermissions. Look, he’s trying to prove that he earned the right to be spittin these rhymes, like “Tough Times” is some kind of competition. Or he might stop to wonder why his persecutors come around, “They jealous little bitches” he tells himself, and writes it down, And satisfied with this conclusion he so quickly found, puts it on his dis track and peddles that all over town. But he never stops to wonder what it looks like from the other side, only peering out from the space behind his eyes. If we tried to understand each other we might be surprised To find that our lives don’t lie on these divided lines. [Hook] But what if it’s not about him? Maybe we need more deepness. Maybe these black artists feel like they can’t make something and keep it. I mean, Elvis stole the blues, jazz led to Kenny Geesus. And after all that, can we really fault they feelins? And forget about the music, we steal plenty without warning, yet it’s always the black male portrayed when the cops get to swarming. But instead of robbing houses, we steal neighborhoods and homing; you just got gentrified. Let’s call it redistributed zoning. Imagine how that feels, when your people always create, just to have someone else swoop in and get the take at the last minute, when you’ve been in it since day one. Been under the gun, no wonder they feel so jaded, son. So why the fuck am I here, if all these naysayers are right? Why don’t I shelf the bars and beats and just stick to my tribe? To be honest, I do it for me, I ain’t tryna be DOOM or Bey. I’m just a white dude on his lunch break, and I’ve got a lot to say.
5.
Be A Man 04:18
Be a man, they said. Get ready to get this point pounded into your head. A ball-peen that rounded out the dents of all the undeveloped gents that went before you, don’t ignore the boundaries that they bred. We’ve engineered a way to insure that you get paid, and that your skin flute gets played by the finest trophy-turned-to-maid. Turned to mother when your seed is splayed Better a boy, so he can keep your name. And he better never show it if he’s afraid, so he can be the man when you take your grave. All you gotta do is be a man All you gotta do is be a man All you gotta do is be a man And so the expectation simmers in us. And that glimmer of hope, it glimmers in us. Until it starts to feel like a shortfall, and you can’t drop the subject of your balls But what they don’t tell you, is it’s a mirage, and it’s teasing you like a three dollar dancer. A grown-up version of the Santa Claus, ask twenty different people, get thirty different answers: Cowboy up. Rub some dirt on it. Don’t give a fuck. Don’t show you’re hurt from it. Act like you’ve been here before. Fuck all the bitches, don’t fuck with the whores. All you gotta do is be a man All you gotta do is be a man All you gotta do is be a man And some will say we’ve been ripped off; that we've let our children get too soft. And maybe we should go back to when we knew the boys had turned to men when they publicly chopped the ends of their dicks off. Or they caught a beast out in the brush, and supplied a feast with a pelvic thrust. And he’s called a man anywhere he go, hears it everywhere but inside his dome. And that’s the source for all this grief. It’s not what you do, but what you believe about yourself with no one else around. Scared little voices make ferocious sounds. All you gotta do is be a man All you gotta do is be a man All you gotta do is be a man

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released February 25, 2015

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Chauncey Gardener Springfield, Missouri

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