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Cast:
Maggie - Mirabella Simantel
Clair - Zoe Shaw
Charlie - Liam Shaw
Bucket - Edie Shaw
Crew:
Director- Rob Shaw
Executive Creative Director - Jason Bacon
Executive Producer- Tsui Ling Toomer
Producer - Robert D’Esposito
Animation - Rob Shaw
Skateboarding Skeleton Animation - John Summerson
Additional 2D Animation -Sam Niemann
Live Action DP - Rodrigo Melgarejo
Live Action Gaffer - Eric Macy
Live Action AC - Lane Clark
Live Action Sound Mixer - Evan Gandy
Compositor/Editor- Rob Shaw
Color Correct - Stephen Lauser
Animation elements designed by - Justin “Coro” Kaufman
Production Company: Little-Giant
Song Credits:
Written & Produced By Aesop Rock
Additional Instrumentation By Grimace Federation
Lyrics:
I could give a fuck if there’s mold on my daily bread, I’m a foe to the fainting goat, I’m at home on the razor’s edge, over the garden wall when your Rover was playing dead, arm-in-arm with a melancholia, roses and baby’s breath, slow to reveal a signal from deep in the tub of tiger balm, lighter lit, giant slalom circumvent the psychopomp, womp womp, circle to the watering hole, something secluded where the spoon stand up in the joe, pursue a puff of smoke who never hum or trumpet his post, from unassuming to the poltergeist of multiple homes, ultimate weapon, slow the pulse to a crawl, “Sir, we had thought he was toast”, that’s when the elbow drop from off of the ropes, family approach him like he sat up in his coffin and spoke, we only talk in awkward hello after awkward hello, most of my visitors request that I be tied to a chair, I wear the skin of my detractors, maybe try not to stare, yea
Every time I look up from the paper I see animals exhibiting irregular behavior, even though I know that it’s a warning, I am back on my old shit again like any other morning, every time I peak out from the corner birds are flying belly side-up, fish are walking out the water, even though it seem legit, Im right here ’til the season dip, I ain’t seen shit
My gang sign’s never the same twice, since offering his service had him nursing a snakebite, we dabble in certainty, I’m allergic to grave vines, you certainly unearthing my aversion to make nice, I’m basically bored stiff, your sortie go from orbiting warships, to cowering in corners, “Mother, make us some warm milk”, from “bout it” to the mayor of Snores-ville, in a jiffy, the final form’s a portrait of a squirrel stuck in a chimney, I buy a second seat for my extraordinary piss and moan, feet up while the fleet assemble, keep the devil in the hole, with several yelling “Sparta!”, you were yelling “Marsha Marsha Marsha!”, only one’ll read the chapter after larva, It’s a good one, I’m haunted by Atlantic water bade adieu, balancing a billion rocks to levitate adjacent to, escapist at the undisclosed, aloof and newly mummified, you’re upsetting the customers, you should see the other guy, wait
How many vermin get to scurry up the piggy back and burrow in before it lose the personhood to sticky trap, clown car of clingers, I shiver off with the water dogs, invoking tippy-toes along the wall and diving somersaults, that sneak him out the supper club and muddy up the coveralls, I leave y’all to the scuttlebutt, we get our water from the source, directly, Zoltar, predisposed to go dark, ghost ride, all roll-bar, no lodestar, aye! Comeuppance like a fire licking at your shoes, when all you want is happy feet in hammocks under azure blue, have you any marrow past the ballyhoo or no sir, no it’s mostly snotty noses pressed to empty zoo enclosures, going, “This is stupid, I’m tired, I want a pretzel”, the guppies are getting grumpy, there’s nothing like nothing special, I know you were expecting just a Jeckyl, the others are in there also, his company doesn’t end well, yo
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28 сен 2024