Acid King - Malibu Ken, Aesop Rock

The magic is black, backyard happy and fertile

For Kasso, the Acid King of the Black Circle

Same year Bowie dropped

Two horns hatched and matured to gore Northport’s '84

Here is '84: Mary Lou Retton, Excitebike, AIDS, Jeopardy!

Wake up the Orwell in me

Crack rock, anyway: seventeen summers in developing

Would it be the middle school or ketamine?

Guess

Left home in the dark

To curl up in a bear hug in Suffolk County’s arms

With a bevy of heavy metal records and leather bibles

More Anton LaVey than Saint Michael

More sherm in a Ford on bricks behind Midas

Fly with the pentagram pilots

Sabbath and Judas and all tunes prudent

Seems tame now, but then it was Devil music

Rick Six, the nickname clicks

Makeshift altar in a clearing in the sticks

Forfeit a kitten by the forks from the kitchen

With horsemen who drew the same symbols

Pitchforks waving out a grand theft four by four support system

Alas;

Angus on the ax in the back

Foreground offering a pitch-dark animal corpse

And backyard black mass

And a brash curiosity opt for grave robbery

To puff and pluck skulls at a cemetery property

Cops cuff him and stuff him in Amityville Asylum

It’s fantasy island for Noah’s Lions, at the time

South Oaks, but focus on the environment

And how it couldn’t loosen the Lucifer out his client

Who would flee

Pale moon, pale horse howling death

And LSD to make it mean more than it meant

Pay attention: here’s where the whole thing sours

And goes from intriguing to wowzers

At a party, a passed out drunk Kasso gets got for 10 bags of dust

Now it’s not a big town, and people have big mouths

So he fishes around 'til he figures it out

Gary Lauwers, seventeen years young

You have no idea what you’ve done

Track him down, beat him pissy

He got five bags back, still owes him fifty

Oh Ricky, Ricky, do we hound him for loot?

Or show him how the hellbound do?

Hmm…

Kasso waives all debts

Says, «Let's just go and get baked instead»

Two shake hands and the beef play dead

Though it’s more like a skeeter shaking a web

And along came a spider with two of his friends

It was into the woods, a delusional mess

Four kids dipped in a black hole bath

June 16, Kasso snaps

Off-guard Gary tackled and pinned

Sees Rick pull a knife from his jacket and grin

Raise that knife like a sword to the moon

Plunge that knife through a portrait of youth, going

«Say you love Satan, say you love Satan»

Lauwers ain’t say it, just cave to the facelift

Thirty-two stab wounds, gouged out eyes

Burns on his skin, not a cloud in the sky

Kasso had later explained he was told

By Satan himself in the form of a crow

To murder the kid cold

A part of a pristine whole

No, no, no, no, no…

And just had to brag

Until somebody sad just had to rat

Sat in a cell as a merchant of hate

Who would hang from his sheet before the third day

Some say Kasso was part of a cult

But I’m sure there was more than we’re told

More than adults or authority could rightly decode

Or maybe I’m wrong and he’s finally home

Kasso!

It’s starting to feel like a nice night

Hold close to the highs and the white light

Hold close to the good you are drawn to

These woods were grown to disarm you

It’s starting to feel like a nice night

Hold close to the highs and the white light

Hold close to the good you are drawn to

These woods were grown to disarm you

It’s starting to feel like a nice night

Hold close to the highs and the white light

Hold close to the good you are drawn to

These woods were grown to disarm you

It’s starting to feel like a nice night

Hold close to the highs and the white light

Hold close to the good you are drawn to

These woods were grown to disarm you