PRO​-​ject project

by HandsalooF

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02:44
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01:54
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03:19
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03:26
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credits

released September 1, 2017

mm3rd on production. Handsaloof on guitar and vocals

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all rights reserved

tags

about

HandsalooF Johannesburg, South Africa

i'm an artist. I likes to think of myself as a ‘sayer’. I'm a Beat maker/ producer, poet-mc, aspiring guitarist & graphics artist. I've been writing, reciting and performing my work for the past twenty two years, compiled over thirty albums worth of work and collaborated with an array of artists locally and internationally as a phantom band called ‘the hypesters’. ... more

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Track Name: death be
death be weaned,
fade into the burning milks' simmer you teething soul,
slither collecting marbles with that pomegranate fiend...
you are the one full friend of this field of work,
battlefield of activities of butchery in divinely hectic scenes.
death be true be un-screened,
be the reality of all from which we've come,
hold the hails and activities in divinely hectic scenes,
be the bubbling of toxic waste in completely beautiful things we've not yet met or seen in divinely hectic scenes...
be the perfect pyramid scheme for collecting credit for nonsense things and forgetting the merits of divinely hectic scenes,
be that queen,
be that sharp edge of a mirror that catches the shimmer of bliss but not the truth of divinely hectic beings.
He is and He isn't,
simultaneous oneness and difference yet remains The Truth of ALL divinely hectic things.
be the truth that is a truth,
truth to give the most to thoughts to truths of The Most Divinely Hectic Being.
Track Name: doodle
Yankee doodle, sniff a pink poodle.
The big dude around the corner where he saw ém scoffing noodles
Made a mean shnoodle-haunt and couldn’t offer it, and yet he knew how to yodel...
Plus he called ém goose cause he gives it good and golden and fast he flies Odeon past the pad and lands the pod wicked.
Plus he toldém straight like, you’re not God, you’re just some hallucinating hobo with a hectic hangover, role playing, loose like the words you’re saying... and of course, confused stupid.
Came from Helsinki, which’s how he knew the dirty flasher man who showed the girls his winkie.

Oh how those girls ran, oh how this man does all he wants just because he thinks he wants and oh how he can...
Human animalism... eating dead bodies is so sophisticated, but its so overrated, so is looking for a place to bone, to eat and how then to protect ém...
It’s all phooey, going wild against prescribed duty,
Caught in the game of politicking behaving raw and snooty.
So hello,
How is your body today, and exactly what is its relation to the concept of you?
In other words lets do away with the how do you do... reason being that the situation is reflective of your lack of self realization, and that being the case, there’s nothing new...
Track Name: creatures
Don’t scratch.
For a fact.
There is no enjoyment here...
You’re getting trapped.
It’s a fact.
For a fact.

They ‘sniff-smell’ like wild cherries, garden thorn bush moody fairies, sweet and sour sour-grout, slightly scented roses and water starved lilies.
Speak in a language of protest feminine that calls them names like ‘eat-me-sex-of-women’… tingling within each syllable and forcing the child to speak.
‘Child Speak!’
Helping him give in to those hurtful angry senses…
Speak of coarse and curvy edges… Talking ‘bout ‘I bet you taste like vanilla…’

And this part scares him because it isn't real,
Even though quite true, I wouldn't quote it as something of an end in which we'd wish to wine and deal... but,

well yes we're happy enough to sell anything...
Even every little bit and shred of recited happiness in this greedy green happy mess written right and ready from sturdy hand beautiful on a shred of shiver pulp and purple shimmer printed toilet paper, describing exactly what they thought and how we'll make nothing really mean everything...
Yet he’ll be like… ‘Its all sex and it reeks. Like raw steak_yeah, which is a portion of a ‘used to be living body’ of course, in other words, dead meat.’

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