William Burroughs mixtape
Listening to a William Burroughs Parisian mixtape shouts to my chickpea brain that longs for frozen smartphone popsicles that come in 700 delectable flavors except the one that you want the most no matter what that flavor is thats when you tumble down the stairs to meet a maligned mouse that knows a party trick as WB scratches the tape backwards and forwards to the beat of a Welsh party song with broken scream speeches of incarnate broken vape cartridges that bounce to the cars that have rims of conclusive cut and paste home audio taping systems with a color guard nasal tunnel running right through the backline of the neo-golden kitchen of chrome plated pageantry where lions sing algebra to the beats of the tape.
Yours in home recording,
Count Robot
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