Fryerstarter Lyrics - Skelethon - Aesop Rock

Let me put you up on Bob's donuts 

Controller of the warm deep fryer that charms cobras 

Mostly it was aggravated ulcers over goat's legs 

Will they go for maple, custard, buttermilk or wolfs bane? 

Hm, late after your cinderella pulsate and crash I was rotating casts 

Picture if you will a witching hour on week night in the trenches 

Where paranoia dead-ends in a bright florescent heaven 

With sprinkles 

I know right yum 

Whether tummy ache or fever 

Keep the funnel cake I'm honey glaze in vitro 

In the company of similar believers 

Sleepless, who hear the walls breath and foam at the facial features 

Now the yeast, a phoenix in the partially hydrogenated 

Equal parts flower, faith, healing 

Might replace your previously nominated jesus 

But only if you privy to the following secret of all secrets 

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Shh, every night at 12 they would march out from the back 

With a tray of raw dough for the pool of hot fat 

Show up around 1 never get your god back 

If you're just tuning in, walk into the light 

I boil oil too, not for scarfing 

For CCs of japanese innovation that screech into free parking 

Purple heart and 2nd chin that beseech him to squeeze the carbs into the motherboard 

You can chew the eucharist in cruller form 

Locally a seedy danish underworld is bustling where jelly's not a celebrated it's a puppet string 

Pluck, nose for canola 

5 cow stomachs like a mime with a rope going nowhere 

Fast, right hand of god on my shoulder, crows feet swollen, dopey 

Combing apple fritters over with folk of opposing cultures 

Baby sitter cop thief reverend, body glitter, botched c-section, bronze teeth 

Each progressively more sequestered 

Yet if threatened will defend the rasin bread as codefendants 

Some lose religion or view it as superstition 

You can tell a friend ifyou are down to kill them 

Photos 

Shh, every night at 12 they would march out from the back 

With a tray of raw dough for the pool of hot fat 

Show up around 1 never get your god back 

If you're just tuning in, walk into the light 

The fat boys are back, foam fingers over open arms 

To feverishly reclaim their stomachs from golden jars 

And stagger through the pulse ofthe gulch on a builder's dividends 

Hiding high behind his guilty powdered-sugar fingerprints 

Seething eventide fever, sidewalk feeling a little dicey 

I'm snake-eye straight to the cakes icing 

Might, fortune-teller up your favorite paper tiger stripe 

Great, grace invaders, the first-name basis patron haters 

Who compromise the pilot lights and flavors 

Silent night, holy night, invite the pious out the pagan 

Midnight kitchen doors un-caging the enablers like butchers in bloody aprons 

Can I get a fucking amen? 

AMEN, hazelnut raiders of the lost, 

navigate consecutive pastries like stations of the cross 

No name no dayjob 

Know the folk where it virgin mary toast by the loaf 

Thanks bob 

Shh, every night at 12 they would march out from the back 

With a tray of raw dough for the pool of hot fat 

Show up around 1 never get your god back 

If you're just tuning in, walk into the light