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Rating: In three minutes, I jump over a turnstile, slide under it, jump back over, slide under again, jump over like an acrobat, and slide under limbo-style. Meanwhile, I listen to all thirty bursts of this album. I think that where there's a turnstile, there’s a wall. I have a simple mind that works by analogies.
This wall protects shopkeepers and/or the privileged by birth from the wicked ones just a meter outside the door. It’s assumed that those inside are better than those outside. The slander campaign against the wicked and outcasts has reached peaks of absurdity and misrepresentation that seemed unattainable at such a young age.
Ah, but the turnstile is made to pass through, a wall you can’t just pass. Why, do you say all the roads to Mexico have been bricked up? You are just as dumb as a donkey's dick.
But what has this got to do with the music? Come here and read the titles and read the lyrics, even if you can’t keep up, go back to it and catch in your face the belch or the scream and all the chaos inside.
If you aspire to gentrification, I aspire to demolition.
Tracklist
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