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1.
Patient Zero 10:01
2.
Yes, I’m normal. I ate a Clif bar for breakfast, I brushed my teeth, I put on deodorant. That’s what separates me from the meth-heads. I wear socks, because humans wear socks. I go to my job where I work. I’m on the lease on my apartment. I drink coffee. Donut Shop Mocha Latte. Hopefully no one bothers me today. They’ll see inside me and see I’m not human, but a machine, a simple organism, pretending to be human. My cover only works for so long. I am completely empty and hollow inside. But, if I try hard enough, if I smile, if I say “good, how are you” and things of that nature, I will fool the humans. I have a trained reflex to smile when I make eye contact especially with other white people, so they will think of me as one of their own. I am not a horrible person because I can’t tell east from west, or left from right. Oh shit, here they come. Haha yes. Nice to see you, oh, you too. Have a great night, have a good time, now. Welcome to paradise. Another dime another dollar, huh? Different shit same day. I’m here for business. Because I’m a grown man, I take care of business. Here is my business. Thank you for your money, I appreciate your business, because I’m a businessman, and I say professional things. I work hard for my money, and even though generational wealth helps me. Yes, I have a girlfriend. She’s known as Critical, we’ve been together five I mean four I mean two years. I know that’s a normal thing that human people have, girlfriends right? Oh thank you, congratulations to you also, for your comments. No, I don’t watch football. Hey, come on! Leave me alone! Alright Stop Looking at me. Stop it. I’m sorry, what I can’t stretch my legs? I gotta be your little bitch ass kisser? I’m Not Doing That. Sorry. You know, what, Fuck you, eat my asshole, and I’ve been stealing your silverware. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, alright? No, I’m serious, I’ll give you your silverware back. Take it out of my last check. But I can’t work with a bunch of neurotypicals looking at me with their dead eyes. You’re a cunt, and so is your sister. And your mother takes it in the ass. Goodbye!!! What the Fuck I needed that job! What the hell am I gonna do now, that job gave me $700 every two weeks to stand there and be nice. That’s all I had to do, stand there and be nice, and I couldn’t do it.
3.
Like Roger Rabbit Threw myself through a wall of bad habits My eyeballs melt with vicious static that I'm Rapidly spewing above the placement How the fuck you gon' do that? Tas the turn on the radio broadcast The clouds of a legion of Chalk goblins Frozen in a stance of erroneous problems All spears in another gentrification Which aligns with your heart and its fuckin' sickness You make me fuckin' sick With your "I don't hate black but I love white" bullshit Put my hand in a blender Tie my foot to the fang of a serpent If you ain't hurtin', what the fuck you learnin'? Your ignorance is increasingly apparent And that's what the problem is Shit's so fucked I don't know where to begin The type of evil you inherit is the comfort of a cul-de-sac The thumb of an aristocrat As you watch it burn up like a pile of a putrid fire Which melts under the barren land we live that Judgement day is coming homie and it ain't Being dished out by Gabriel or any other self-proclaimed angel Body's still on the concrete Trampled over by a personal paid police Excuse me officer can you hold this grenade While I buy a handle of liquor And I promise I'll be back within the hour And if I ain't just holdin' a little bit longer Held down your knee to push out the breath And the last puff came with the stench of death motherfucker This devil within you controls you This nation needs an exorcism Put my hand in a blender Tie my foot to the fang of a serpent If you ain't hurtin', what the fuck you learnin'? Your ignorance is increasingly apparent Your catchphrase "I ain't racist but" Needs to be punched right out of your fucking gut This country is broken They will leave you to die in the street Kill a man just because Kid is what made the bust Get back home from the game This nation glorifies pain Trapped inside a membrane Writing down trope mistakes And all you can think to say Is that it's not that simple Death is clear, you can't hide You're killing just to abide If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times! Go home racist Go home racist Get the fuck out of here Goodbye
4.
Black! Black! Black! Black! Hol up hol up hol up hol up hol up
5.
Wrong, wrong, wrong! That’s wrong. You can’t smoke in here, sir. I’ll show you the exit. And you need to be 25 feet from the exit if you want to smoke. You need to be off the clock if you want to wait in here. Excuse me, are you leaving? No phones, excuse me no phone, please. Sir? Sir, what’s that in your bag? Sir? Yes, Jimothy? Will you keep an eye on Mr. Babcock while I phone the police? Yes Mr. Detective Boot, I do intend to press charges. What charges? Well, let’s think for a second. Grand larceny is the first one, but I feel like trespassing and resisting arrest - yes he also spat on me, so add battery to the mix. This man is certainly dangerous, and I anxiously await your arrival so we can put this troublemaker in jail together. And this is rather off-topic, but I can suspect other crimes this individual is guilty of. Yes, I’ll hold. Canceled!!! I canceled your punk ass! Returned, Erased, Held Accountable!! Better luck next lifetime! We’re not having any problematic problems like the likes of you stain our very noble and cultured Black Feminist Lives Matter Sexual Assault Mutual Aid rock n roll kegger at Gabe’s Lift Mill Mews Blossom in Iowa City, ask a punk, where no one gets hurt, and no one’s feelings get spiked. The bartender has a PhD in bein’ swell and if you don’t believe me, ask Mr. Max Wellman, who certainly hates you as much as I do. I’m better than you! I’m better than you I get more pussy than you, and you’re the one wearing women’s clothes. Consensual pussy that is, and I can prove it. I’m gonna blow off your show for 80/35 and cry like a bitch on Snapchat and continue the witch hunt against your friends. Don’t bother bringing that white trash around here, we’ll curb stomp your ass into submission with our smoking hot token transgender pussy.
6.
[Newt Grundy:] Stop with a thin eye Keep a space Keep it up to fabricate Death is too elaborate The weight it falls on a stuck-eyed bark Sticks for days and it went stale skart You better back up when it begins to bark I'm hype on the shit, hit it in the dark I'm hype on the shit, hit in the dark Absence a life is a loss of ownership Propriety look familiar to you greedy fucking bastards We're gonna take what we deserve But we won't consider hide the fact you heard that You pulled it out here comes the snapback Didn't predict that this well I saw that shit called ironic playback Put that on my TV and play back I suffer the baby of moral ambiguity Yet sold my sense of any self scrutiny Approach my mortal compass death over abyss I cease and I desist to resist My sense is violence You disagree my john still with a wire Makes it to the grocery store Data is the stone fall into infinity What would you find in each other's great company You better back up when it begins to bark I'm hype on the shit, hit it in the dark In the wolf's mouth is a piece of a star Shot from a gun to shot from a far
7.
Fuck you. I just wanted to fucking talk.
8.
Untitled 14:33

about

Black lives matter.

Trigger Warning: Violence

Track 7 "Indoctrination" originally appeared on my 2016 album "s". I have included it because it is a virtually flawless song and I will probably never get to make another one like it. Instrumental versions of songs are included as bonus tracks.

credits

released March 25, 2022

The "E" Man - electronics, vocals, samples, drums, organ, shamisen, harmonica

Newt Grundy - vocals and guitar on track 3, vocals on track 6

Luke Belknap - organ on track 7

Anonymous - vocals, trombone, drums, trumpet, turntables, and percussion, on tracks 2 and 4

All music was written, recorded, and produced by T. A. Babcock.

All words written by T. A. Babcock except on tracks 3 and 6, which were written by Newt Grundy.

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Erases Eraser Denver, Colorado

Erases Eraser (T. A. Babcock) is an experimental electronic artist, visual artist, and computer programmer. He has been making music since 2014. He played drums in Tantrum Throwers and Culture Chester.

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