Gills and a Helmet

by Jellyfish Brigade

supported by
/
  • Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

     name your price

     

  • Compact Disc (CD)

    Includes unlimited streaming of Gills and a Helmet via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days

     $6 USD

     

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.

about

credits

released 06 July 2011

Lyrics: Lucas Dix
Composer: Jeffrey Acciaioli
Illustrator: Jason Graham
Design: Ryan Robers

tags

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist
Track Name: Kerosene and Fireflies
It's getting a little tricky out here. To all my fellow baton twirlers: I think we gonna need some gills and a helmet to survive this one, maybe some kerosene and a spot to watch the fireflies as well. My homey J Boogie told me this all reminds him of the conversation Gandhi had with the lion. I think it went something like this:


He opens both eyes early to the circuits of a purple son, ignoring the haps occurring in the recent murky months. He's been alerted the end of the world will surely come, but he figured not before the purpose in his work was done. Last moon bloomed like a moldy marigold, and the crickets crooned a simple tune in Dolby stereo. Yeah, fuck it right? Shit, It's just another night. Said he's on his 24th year of his 100th life. He gathered twigs and leaves and concocted up a diadem, whittled the sickest slingshot to topple the leviathans. A goddess on his mind, a feast up in his gut. Got possessions to his name but he will leave them if he must. Trust no kings or peasants who don't sing. He'd rather coalesce with the thieves blowing smoke rings. Liquor to the kisser as they wax on the wondrous, chasing a horizon that launched a thousand other ships.


Leave it, love it, navigate with no compass. When the city racket hushes, son's hit with an onslaught of "what ifs". Questioning the path, memories of past, stop him dead up in his tracks like "can he get them back, got forever in his grasp?” No way this is never gonna last. Wait...said he felt immortal for a second once, when a heavy headed reddish setting sun seemed to bring about the dimming inner glow in everyone. Poof! Now the proof of it is gone, bidding every hint of it goodbye. Breathing room is boxed in after the unlimited is minimized. Sip on the acidity dripping from the wishes of infinity ‘cause the fitted physical is withering but the bits of energy are spinning free. Hmmm...let him marinate a minute quick, isn't this polarizing? When the riddles rip him at the middle and he sides no alliance. You see he overstands the unknown is defined by pacifications he molds in his mind. The hopelessness oracles spoke as sublime taught him the words to this old lullaby.


It goes all I know is I. The way that it is, the way that it ain’t, changing with the wind in a way I can't vocalize. It goes all I know is I. The way that it is, the way that it ain’t. All I really know is I. But I don't even know sometimes. Ante back, keep it all crepuscular cool, strutting like them mah fuckas lugging buckets of jewels. He adopted him an emerald glow and accepted the clenching ephemerals hold on his pocket full of memorables. That's how the kaleidoscope is twisting. Homey's drifting on a spinning planet in the solar system. Go and get'em vs. wait and sit; the options will certainly circulate depending on a person's radius and reach of it. Deal with the many different sequences, dropping pennies like "keep the eye upon the zenith tip." Climb to the pinnacle, but mind the peripheral, tangle with the external but stay as I individual. Beg a question and his usual answer normally will have to do with his delusions of grandeur. The mannerisms pertain to the revolution that he's rooting for. Rally for the a-alikes like you should do for you and yours. Through the forest camping underneath a canopy. Preparing for survival to better the pending anarchy. Planning for the mission of his madam majesty, he made a check list of all the things he needs to have or see: Gills to give him air in case he hits the tide wall, a Helmet to protect his head in case the sky falls, kerosene to get this place a scorching and fireflies for beauty, ‘cause without it, the former are less important.
Track Name: Dance in the Dungeon
Welcome to my expanding circumference. Let's join hands for a dance in the dungeon. I've been awake, widened eyes surely peeled. First mistake was thinking this world was real.


Direct a deaf ear to the harbinger's lips leaking that new age doomsday marketing pitch, bump the gums like they're bartering a bargaining chip. If it comes it comes, wont front like it already did. Troubled tug of war for the hard to resist, pardon me kid, starting to drift, hazy like a star in the mist. Lunar's lovely, I'm targeting it, but sometimes even the sharpest marksman will miss. Gargle and spit shine, soliloquist rips lines to passing traffic, foots steps and a wind chime homey. Moving in a circle on a square block. Analyze the damage before I fire up the flare shots. Don't knock the dun dada's to do list. Face to the flame while the populous snoozes. Scraping the change from out of the couch cushion, turn a blemish to a masterpiece without looking.


Up and at'em cause the data is dusty. Put in mad scientist work for the maximum must-be's (feel me). New thought, scrap it or pump the helium ‘til the wings flap and then touch the ceiling? (uh) Ying yang for the in the middle switch game, split brain fiddle with a little bitty big bang. Screaming things change in the chaos, duke. Next day I'll be wrestling the de ja vu. Come again chameleon, I'm spilling what I'm really on, feeling like a million even when the scrilla's gone. Meditate for the cocooned caterpillar calm. Sweet tooth lover from the school of Mr. Willy Wonk (aaaaaaaa)Its electric outside, downpour draining from the bottom of cloud nine. When I see the wattage and the droplets mixing, I'ma be damn sure I got galoshes with me.Tipsy on a dizzy spell, yodel out a yippee yell. Dance 'til my feet dig a hole inside the prison cell. I get compelled to huddle up with the strugglers and summon a succubus to snuggle under the comforters (shiiiiit) Do what it takes to cope. Satisfied equals dead, yeah my base is insatiable. Stretch the tentacles so the range will grow and gather evidence 'til my case is closed.


Won't you join me, come in, for a dance inside the dungeon.
Track Name: Chasing the Shine
It's been a minute since my last sober slumber, rolling under cozy covers. Here goes another tally mark, diagonal, my rally start's practical: fingering a spirit out a nearly empty pack of smokes. I'm like...I don't even know. Dirty diamond thing of a self but I clean it slow. I be composed of chemicals from the products placed. Lay me to rest as a heaping pile of toxic waste. Stamp that on the real, my clan of seashells lamped into the e-realm, rambling bout how we felt like drugs are the shit. Befuddled but coming to grips, measure the day by the clumps of the thick mud on my kicks. Ok...Holla like a mockingbird. Reverence led to the spiders spooling gossamer threads. Eyes on the six leggers caught in the web like they gonna hit me with a tip to get up out of this mess.


I've been taking my time to create the divine, and when I wake and I rise, I start chasing the shine.


It's been a minute since I last seen a thunderstorm toss a couple branches to the lawn on a summer's morn. I truly miss it, spotting the gloomy visage of the cumulonimbus looming like there's doom in the distance. Salutations I'm Lucas Dix, shaper of the clay and the universe's nucleus. Youth consisted of the chase without straying far, following fireflies and caging them in mason jars. Its all gravy, giddy in awe lately, caught waiting, pause, witness the bark and the moss mating. Gone crazy like the normal folks, but instead of hopping on the meds, I'm heading for the 40s at the corner store. Damn, love it with a closing fist. Some will only blow a kiss if they're granted ownership. So as a growing kid I let them lightning bugs go,
if I hold them in my hands they can't dance and glow.


It's been a minute since I tracked minutes Out of time, out of touch, no J-O to pull me back in it Cramped with it, 5 deep up in the bungalow, where the people come and go and the happenings are punctual. No particular plans B, other than do whatever tickles my fancy. Banging a game of billiards at the back of the bar or balling my sweater to a pillow for a nap in the park. Yo, I tend to marry to moment with the mystical often using it as an excuse for the shit I pull. Funny how the bellow of the battle cries share a similar tone as the tremble of the alibis. I bet I said it a lot, cycle with the sun, moon, weather and the whether or nots. Spotting the terrain for the Flying Betty's, while still breaking my neck to catch this sky correctly.
Track Name: Tremor Dancer
Camelot in smithereens, we need assistance for the injuries. Wail the sirens, sonny, hurry quickly please. The invincible are humbled in their arrow pierced armor crying flipped versions of that "oh oh my Lord". Justify my sit(uation) like a master, unable to tell the differences between experience and disaster. Cast an early shadow stretching 'cross my yard of wood chips. I shouldn't measure progress by the marching footprints. Right. Stuck inside my favorite little maelstrom. My heart thump makes the needle on the Richter scale jump. Bounce, Bounce: swing my limbs in tune with the tremors, get ready to shout loud, in a meadow at dusk erupt in beautiful splendor. Hence the gully, godly, giddy out of body tripping in between the segments where the posse's riding with me. They can bring the parables, I'll provide the open ears, posting up inside the smoke and mirrors slowly waiting for the coast to clear.


I can purge my uncertainty or keep it checked so it doesn't show, but the wounded ego infiltrates the act so it's looking like my cover's blown. Homey all the haps occurring are confirming we get shook when uncomfortable. As tremor dancers it's our duty to remember that the rumblings will come and go.


I'm a mah fucking liar, but about as truthful as it gets. If I was stronger I would leave it all and hit the slow road and dip. Shits about to get ugly, dark before the dawn type ugly. Jealousy poisoning your strong side ugly. Close friends knuckling up brawl fight bloody. Much red splattered on the wall right in front me. Pick a side, any side, toggle when the tension's high. Defensive men collide when the desperation's energized. I've been advised to grit my teeth and fend for mine. I'll bet I'll find out if I understand the means when the end arrives. Calculated when I make my moves, see who's in the aim when the trigger finger blame ensues. I'd like to say it's you, but saying you is really just an I that I don't wanna have to deal with at this point in time.


Grab a hold of something sturdy, cause a shift is coming surely. I was hating when I stated folks were dumb and undeserving. Disgusted by theories and sometimes I knock 'em still. Makes me wonder if this ego is impossible to kill. Holla like we're prodigal highly evolving geniuses, songs for revolution and badges for our weaknesses. Are we masters of the seen and lived or dreaming droplets In the Petri dish? Probably somewhere in between the shit. So take me down a notch and show me what I need to watch. Humble the elitist 'til he's balanced like the equinox. People's gotta do what the doings have got'em saying. Let the potency of actions peddle the proclamations. Now...the question is: what do we do from here? Pack it up, mosey on, with rubble as a souvenir from when the world collapse and we flailed while it was crashing. We can brush it off but can't pretend it didn't happen.
Track Name: Dreams and Clean Weapons
It's a white zin whine bottle afternoon for the egomaniacal mad hat platoon. Breathing in the breeze and the gaseous fumes, pretending I was knee deep in the lily pad lagoon. I'm on that momentary amnesia tip, soles dug into the dirt ready for a Pangaea split. Sangria tint bleeding 'cross the milieu. I'm blocking all banter like "let's talk for real, dude". Where my sirens at? The tire tracks left the briar patch and headed straight for a cybercast. All the war riders donned an iron mask but accidentally slipped they secrets through the wiretaps. Yep. Shits a bitch ain't it. When the rapture don't seem as potent when you dictate it. Which way is which, wanna play a Daedalus, but the ideas are stale in the age of the plagiarists.


It was one of G.T'.'s burgundy whine bottle eves. Poured some drops for the death of idolatry. Watched the wonders morph to mind boggling on the crowded stoop of the Hives colony. We, the yet to be tested, gen X kids with Dreams and Clean Weapons. Raised by fear mongers and the television screen. It's a break down thing when the Jellyfish convene. Ciphering like it's an ancient ritual as the trickling twilight paints us indigo. I remember when the aim for the 5 mics changed and shifted to us strangling zeitgeists. The long views easier to see with my eyes closed. Every mishap’s a Venus de Milo to the audience at the Elysian sideshow who've yet to be tainted by the ether of high hopes.


Say that it's so, make me a mold of what's right. Take my soul out this cage into flight.


It's a blush whine bottle night with blind troglodytes crawling out of Plato's cave, here to infiltrate the database. I've been grinding on getting my anger straight ‘cause I know I'm scared shitless beneath my hater face. Stray a gaze into the mirror; damn it's been a while. I can see the effects of my vices in my smile. Miles on the odometer with the urban Iditarod where divinity's squandered in the churches and synagogues. I'm oddly tilted but I flash fluorescent. My glow casts impressions on a waxing crescent. Flick a tongue and its taxicab confessions, investing no faith in the cats elected. Zonked out, I stood with my brethren who said back in the day when he looked to the heavens, he'd search for the savior to come and reclaim his crown but waits for nuclear bombs and spaceships now.


It's a whatever keeps this high dawn. I'm outside bathing in the cosmic krylon. Stringing my gasping laughs to the bygones. The sun's all that's left to rely on. Slow waltzing with the swirling orbs, slurring the ideals we've been hurting for. Sang of transience in our acapellas with so much soul that the Gods were jealous. Often tell it like it should be, love. If I need a bit of advice then the mantras will hook me up. The day can be ruthless so I understand your costumes, but don't sweat it fam I got you. Maybe I mastered the fluxuating. Maybe I get it, or maybe I'm just escaping. I don't know how to deal with that shit, but I can't sleep until this feeling passes.
Track Name: Well Dwellers
Somewhere on this beanstalk to the stars, I woke up in the bottom of a well. Script flipped and it caught me off guard, honestly sometimes I ain't honest with myself. When it’s all been said and done there will still be much to do and say. When the questions were thrown to the air everyone pretended like they knew the way.


Dragging through this buildings filth and grime, kicking with a family of friends who's poisoned by they brilliant minds. A coming change is that silver line. Then again I said I'd change like a million times. Craving psilocybin psychedelics to see if I'll be strilla when my cipher’s helpless. For a while I was shook about losing my cool, which is why I tightly held it like a priceless relic until it slipped, enlightenment's a silly myth dripping from the brushes we're gilding the lilies with. A sky full of glimmers, battling they filaments like "your shine is silky dunny, but not as ill as this". Pillars crumble and buckle the sanctum. Should I play a carpenter and forge another arrangement or move on and simply shrug at the mayhem? ‘Cause some of these structures ain't worth the trouble to save 'em.


I'm on my day falling out into a cadmium morning. There is always an ellipsis at the end of the story. I've been trying to put my finger on what I cannot describe I seem so far way.


Dusk in this city's got the prettiest blues been nearly a year and I'm still thinking of you. Made it a point to enjoy everything I go through so I keeps a grin even in my miserable moods, yo. Always been one of those grass is greener cats and I'm sure your piece of patch has flourished since I've seen it last. Reasons for retreating back can't be justified. When the underlying theme is the fear I've come to find.


This is one for the ages. Defying physics by leaning both ways
Faces in the muddled mosaics claiming to be the most spectacular snowflakes. And the shrapnel ain't bias when it pierces flesh, but I've only met a few who sport they spirit best. The iridescent quest claims the known achievers when they get stuck amongst the gluttonous lotus-eaters.


And I'm eager as a neophyte. Curiosity carved, the scars are credentials that I keep for life. ‘Til the particles that charge me team with the beams of light I'ma rock this mah fucker as my own Jesus Christ. Save my self, ain't a single way in hell I'ma dwell inside a vacant well lamenting on the day I fell. Need to leap off this racing conveyor belt find a little nowhere and post like cicada shells. Speak to me your recent endeavors and see if maybe I can keep it together and be reminded of why I spread the ivory sails and left everything I knew to hike a winding trail. Summers end ain't arriving slowly. I'm lounging out it its demise but won't be stagnated, waiting for developing signs then go a curse the fire below when it tells me to climb. Up from the discomfort of the pell-mell, wonder what to do once I'm out from underneath this well cover. Probably try and break some false assumptions and realize what I lost has been all for something...

Be loud my love. Tell the clouds above its the now not the how it was.No regrets for the doings done. Each choice I've made has been the right one.