spinitch & Chaz Matador - Dotson's Inferno

There's a fire looming toward us but we gotta move some boxes
Me and my business partner hired by a Misses Dotson
Finished the first room at a luxurious pace
But then the sky became murky, the smokiest of grays
I figured it must've been the forest outside set to blaze
Victim of a stray match, polar ice caps that frayed
But no matter, this woman's life cannot move itself
So I collapsed whole closets into boxes without my dude's help
"Yo Spinitch!" - he must be in the attic
These dusty shelves around me smell of fungus maybe cat shit
But humongous frames and badges on the wall suggest a maverick
Who's the spunky individual we're moving in a panic?
Presumably inheritrix, guess a devisee
Who bulldozed roaches rollin' in carriage merrily
Kept her piggy bank healthy, and piggies' banks wealthy
Noble proletariats may lift her dank LPs
If there were some... but caught a couple Get Out of My Life Woman
Breaks out the attic... return to serfdom
Lurkin' with a box is Chaz, murmuring with talkin ants
And somehow that is less bizarre than workin' thru this noxious gas
Smog permeate the pores
Tetrising the trailer while relating this to ancient lore
Crank it closed, chockablock, bask in the pipe exhaust
But thru the fog out walk Chaz with the final box
On the way to Dotson's, with the final box
Steering as the smog sits, with the final box
Spirits of a goddess, with the final box
Thinkin that the odds rigged
As status quo incite flames Spinitch sped the roasting highway
Seated closely shrieking omens Chaz the passenger as night came
In boredom flighty fingers grazed the boxes side length
Miscellaneous tokens Mrs. Dotson thought her life gave
Dice game survivalists, 7/11 diets with this
Cabalistic carton posited between the micely men
iPhones read right to left, maniacal til final breath
Spazzing til the black screens, half a memorized address
Dead or alive, they felt the quest intuited contortions
Chaz & spinitch skidded off the path their van adorned with
The blackest thorns, a phantom's gorge before them belch uncharted
Underneath the melting stars, the boxes items started wobbling
Luggage thrash, steering wheel a rumble pack
Sudden flash, storm's eye dry, bloodshot as a gutted calf
Hunt for gas stations awaitin' the hovercraft
Saw a welcome sign for Summoned Flats
Population
Slugs and rats

Written by:
Estevan Muñoz, Spencer Smyth

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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