Tomorrow Morning Songtext

von Aesop Rock

In the district called the Barbary Coast
Nickelodeon showed scandalous moving pictures
The coast was described by one indignant critic
As "that sink of moral pollution, whose reefs
Are strewn with human wrecks
Here, blear-eyed men drink vile liquor
Smoke offensive tobacco and engage
In vulgar conduct. Here are:
Debauchery, disease, insanity, blasphemy, death
And hell, yawning to receive its putrid mass."
These are the unregulated rabbit holes
Barrack homes and taverns built for devil's acre
Opium enthusiasts and baritones, marigold
The garish allure of the burning Barbary
Underbelly born of 40 thieves in whorish harmony
Hammering for the dark and heartless
Harpy, shark and harlot argue breathing room
Do not let the arson jeeper-creeper you
If we elect the scenic route see it as greener grasses
Like morphine after snatch help you forget diseases matter
Not to mention 15 cents for either weakens cheaper gamblers
Down for hell inside a melting pot
No one's ever melting they just yell a lot
Stab each other, drink and eat and belly-flop
Murder Point, your thoroughfare at 12 o'clock
Is hell and back, EMB to Chinatown
Kearny clashing cutters out the netherworld
Sydney ducks to pistol fuck the centerfold
Every cellar iniquity, pretty killers and pistol petes
Might wake up with horses tearing at your limbs symmetrically
Tomorrow morning when the wharf is finished warping
You will wash up on the shore and wonder what was so alluring
Tomorrow evening when the leeches finish feeding
You'll regret the ownership of an aorta that is bleeding
The volunteer firefighters
Competed with each other
Before a later bay was calm, disreputable hangers on
Would rumble for the hungry like Montgomery's little Genghis Khans
Who plain as day would operate in holes where no patrollers go
Groggeries that host the most ignoble dog and pony show
Francis of Assisi in his grave alone to roller-coast
His opus now a cove where all the lowest lows can grow and grow
With no sign of a holy ghost
More the polar: horns and rosy cloven toes
Bunny-hop claims, fold and overthrow
Gangland anchors hit the harbor down for hangman
Shuffle fifty two and slip the chew behind the fang-span
Greenhorn, he just wanna help his hammers harmonize
Stowed in hell's cargo by the spark in those Wells Fargo eyes
And famine wasn't featured in the pamphlet, neither were the cancers
Camp was smoking chimney, mantle, taxidermy antlers
Now the sourdough is lifted out the honeycombs of kitchens
Satan out on broadway and pacific blowing kisses
40 winks, pissy at the grizzly, no lullaby
Clark's point trollops off the docks to flood and multiply
Until a brilliant golden mother-load in the bank
She said between her legs that other gold's pink
Sold it for cheap along the waterfront, wretched little clusters
Push a fuss of smutty huffing plus some itching and discomfort
Little wonder you, in public for the buck, it's rugged
Rusty cutter gut any cutty drunkard who want it
Hellcat Maggie, aggie, move to the music
She had learned to spoon pollution in a climate pruned for losing
Thousand more like her in the cow-yards moo-ing, ooh-ee
Beneath the brutal harvest moon and UV
Note it's the very same foundation on which you and yours sleep
Layers of players over debaucherous troubadour speak
They puff the pathogens and never let the humidors breath
That's why you grew up on stale tobacco and juniper trees