isyouisorisyouaint has a new album out.
it’s called residual risk and you can hear it on Apple Music, YouTube Music, Spotify, or wherever else you getcher digital tunes.
Residual Risk
Month: March 2023
A Song About Slime Molds as Anti-Capitalist Raconteurs
Living in a world fueled by greed,
Where people eat each other to fill a need.
There’s a form to emulate that’s older than old,
Slime mold, sticky hero, will never be bought or sold.
Slime mold power taking over the streets.
Slime mold power, it’s a capital defeat.
Slime mold power, the change we need.
Slime mold power, the revolution we should heed.
Seems a simple fungus fuming far from full, bright light.
Slime mold’s evolved to a state of frightening might.
Spreads over and over the waste left by human sprawl.
Unified, slimy slime hell-bent to cover it all.
Slime mold power taking over the streets.
Slime mold power, it’s a capital defeat.
Slime mold power, the change we need.
Slime mold power, the revolution we should heed.
Not just an ordinary mold.
A story that must spread to unfold,
Gelatinous beast of ever changing shape,
Cares not for class or creed while laying fools to waste.
Slime mold power taking over the streets.
Slime mold power, it’s a capital defeat.
Slime mold power, the change we need.
Slime mold power, the revolution we should heed.
Slime mold slime mold power is here to slip and say:
“Well-stuck together, no one can get in our way!”
Slime mold power, let it run and ring!
Slime mold power, let it stun and sing!
Hades, Hades, Lord of the Dead
Hades, Hades, Lord of the Dead,
Who speaks in the voices of all that’s been said,
Has fathered a child, so the Furies say,
A spawn of bruised shadow, bloated and grey.
The child’s pale eyes glow an eerie, jade light,
While destruction and doom it coos with delight.
Mortals and gods fear the babbling, bald babe;
The mewling creature come to see the world unmade.
It is told that its piercing, exhausting, frail wail
Brings despair to yon virgins and makes the stoutest hearts fail.
And one touch, brief and simple, withers all wills, brings decay;
That the cavern-bred child devours every sun-started ray.
Hades’ child, scourged heir of the vast underworld,
Wrought to bring horrors, before which warm blood curls.
Its existence portends all’s looming death,
A chilling reminder of coming cold, final breaths.
None yet knows the limits of pain a child can hold,
Nor to what depths that pain can grow and unfold.
So we wrap in torrid tales this cursed entity,
To swaddle and soothe it to obscurity.
Jason Preu 
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