Written by: ANTHONY SIMON, IAN BAVITZ
Duration: 3:51
Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Holy Smokes’ by Aesop Rock. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of Aesop Rock or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Well they were selfish with the helmets on the little bus ’til break fluid sewage crippled up the get retarded nickle punks. Slowly cope, but swore his lowly robot foley folk would one day rise in sections to interrogate the Holy Ghost. Holy smokes, father, black suit, white collar, kiddy porn dungeon, guns and 3 fingers for your daughters caught belly up. Antique Nazi paraphernalia. You cannot pay your bills with holy water and Hail Mary luck. Shucks, fucker, enjoy the Alcatraz shower fun and Mommy’s mad I’m cliche generation X agnostic fron. It ain’t the nifty faith of 1958 before the new new testament approved altar boy fisting rape and take me to your leader, long as he don’t manipulate toddler beaver .Call me crazy but I’d bet that wasn’t God’s demeanor. Sodometere peaking. But Long Island was Jesus every weekend, spoon-fed to appease traditional upbringing of a middle Pennsylvania shit hole where elder’s movement stressed a stellar therapeutic bible cycle. One church with a bait and tackle store next door and not much more. So the two moved to New York, made babies raised on what they’d saw. Christmas morning smelled fresher than angel pussy, but Immaculate Conception came second to playful goodies. Like Laser Tag as way more spiritual than blood and body wafer bags and manger staff as long as Santa ate the cookies. Grandma was a saint while he’d paint with snakes and bullies, said “If only you’d memorize your prayers like you did your cool G.” See by the time I’s old enough to know what religion was, I’s Catholicism numb and truly didn’t give a f*ck. ’94 moved out the crib and ain’t seen a steple since, while Knievel evil seeps in the Christian leaders pitch. ‘Til priest lap slapped with parental advisory warnings, I’ll be auditioning gods in my office on Monday morning.
Uh-oh, and yet another pill slip down the hatch. It patch him through the kill switch. I need a couple A’s for Q’s. I’m not an asshole, I’m just a little confused.
Just a little bruised in the back of the pews, acting amused with a mask on them Vatican blues, for in the eyes of the organization I was raised in, Aes is just another sinning brick in hell’s basement. Cubicle adjacent to the killers and rapists. For what? Drugs and fucking part of growing up. Like cuffs over dumb shit is better than the schools. I’m not an asshole, I’m just a little confused. Just a lit fuse in the back of the pews watching a thousand flavors of the same God feud. I figure ultimate peace is the common theme, so it’s a no-brainer peace when the blood hit the screen. I got a basic good and evil sensibility born. Good neighbor know a halo wouldn’t fit over horns. I’m more science than faith, I’m more karma than bread and booze. I’m not an asshole, I’m just a little confused.