MC Frontalot
Forbidden Planet
Iíve seen a monkey trying hard to love a robot, yo
but all they ever do is fight to the death for your soul.
Theyíre on a planet that I never meant to visit at all.
Got a sign on the wall ó the decree: you donít go.

So come on, make your trespass, get your flesh fast
turned to dust by the death rays. These are the best days
of our lives: mad scientists with swirly eyes;
people with supernatural powers who live in disguise,
who live in the skies, swing between the sky scrapers,
capes all-a-drape in the words on the shiny papers
that the stapler turned to a booklet, or otherwise perfect bound
so when the glue dries in my old age, loose pages all around;
sound of the wind rustling; cowboy zombies ride,
lassoing up the carrion calves and a skeletal bride.
Iím telling you I donít study the phrenology no more
but Iím astounded by the size of the heads in the store.
And I score my pull. Full moons and the howls commence;
tear through a stack in a night with little reticence.
Iím eating venisons in the woods, get an axe to the dome.
Ken is in pieces behind me ó I can still hear him groan.
I should have known from the warning encoded into the name of the place:
forbidden planet, in impermissible space.

And on the surface of the planet, insanity abounds.
Eternal beings shape my sleep and every waking sound
that I make is loud. ďShazam!Ē Iíd say, just to startle you
(a geek ejaculation in between a wave and a particle).
Did a part of you just die just like Clay Loudermilk
shaving information out of a dog without a head? And now the silk
smoking jacket worn by the smartest kid on earth
[Back off, nerd! This libraryís my turf.] ...and give berth
to the brick hats from Ignatz that fly in posthumous volumes.
At once coeval and incompossible: all rooms
at all times, silver age and foil covers mingle.
Something eldritch in the aisle: soul of the man who filched a single
glance at the most forbidden object on the whole orb.
I hint not at quixotic wandering; take the whole tour.
Look on the shelf under Rapper next to Elf,
youíll see a Frontalot one-fold if I have to smuggle it in myself.
Iím gonna hand-scribble it onto a napkin and then scan it,
print a pile of Ďem out, deliver Ďem to the planet.
Iíll acquire a quire and if you donít know what I mean,
look it up: itís one twentieth of a ream.

[Got a song, listen fondly, donít hear a mondegreen]

You think you surrender me to the funny animals who inhabit
but I camp out in the cockpit of the crash land cause theyíre all rabid.
Donít jinx me now, Iím about to escape from here yet.
Iím on an island in the vastness of space [facing regret].
And Iím stranded alone, in need of some rescue,
already ran out of food, masticated my left shoe,
built a robot companion ó on accident programmed it to feel.
So when it spared a little monkey from despair, its fate was sealed.

Iíve seen a monkey trying hard to love a robot, yo
but all they ever do is fight to the death for your soul.
Theyíre on a planet that I never meant to visit at all.
Got a sign on the wall ó the decree: you donít go.
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STUDIO| 00:00:52 | MP3 | #
Regarding Front's favorite comic book shop in Manhattan.
Chorus Vox: Jess Klein | Keyboards: Gminor7 | Drums: The Sturgenius | Scratching: DJ Snyder
posted on 2007-08-01