From "Skelethon"
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Director: Isaac Ravishankara
DP: Kevin Hayden
Producer: Brooke Kennedy
EP: Danielle Hinde
Editor: Isaac Ravishankara
Artist: Coro
Production Company: Doomsday Entertainment
Lyrics:
Unsigned hype, front line aeronauts flurry, zero dark thirty, zero friends, minotaur-fugly stepchild, evoke lunch jumped over plunging necklines, up, beside tongue-tied hungry enzymes, devolved into mothmen munching textiles, punisher, out past go-time, back 10 fried worms chubbier, brown grass both sides, canned food, manmade tools, Lanacane, band-aids, mandrake root, bindle on a broom stick, pancaked shoes and handshake-proof campaign, can't lose, can't gain, smoke out moles like a force of nature, pray fortune return to his favor, swiftly, maybe in the form of a nest egg, maybe in the form of a tesla death ray, or a solid gold scene with something better to celebrate than powder on your face like a flat foot on jelly day, m-m-moral compass all batshit, spinning in the shadows of immoral magnets, are we supporting the artist or enabling the addict, I mean, I guess it matters to me, I wish it mattered to you, how a thousand virtues, kick the same bucket like chinatown turtles
Roving packs of elusive young, become choke-lore writers over boosted drums, in the terrifying face of a future tongue, Down from a huntable surplus to one
(check his own) Breakneck pulse over colors in a drain that emote sugar skulls in the rain, flower-eyes melting, guided by a levy made of bath tiles tilting, quarter up and headed for the kill screen, no corner cut, no build team, only a particularly menacing, angle perpendicular to everything, boys room cherry bomb, boy/goon very much runnin' with the devil in the mellotron, hello, here's where a tale of caution, pounds coffin nails to bootlegs of Hawkwind, saw tooth, nevermind straw to gold, spin hearts on sleeves into heads on poles, arm in the maw, fish out pith like a business card from a jar at the mall, A-alike androids dreaming of carbon applause get stuffed with cartoon cigars, cold pack, neti-pot, home to roost, around folk backed into what they most lampoon, shook to the fevered brow and broke ankles, daisy, declawed pound, no thank you, fade me, failed all basic training but I spent a couple groundhogs days with a changeling, silouhette the god last cigarette, anything less would be re-god-damn-diculous
