Chameleon (ft. Erin Austin, Danimal Cannon)

from Trash World by Supercommuter

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Etched up alligator leather.
White-hot pink tattoo, yellow chinchilla sweater.
Sleeves torn off—bad angle.
Good mullet though—no tangle.
Orange comb in my back pocket.
Hit Checkpoint 1. Yep, unlocked it.
Nobody think twice,
except for that dude that said my shoes looked nice.
Well, goodbye. Never see him again.
I’m in the bathroom thinking about the size of my chin.
Skin pigment shift—blue suntan.
Retro yellow Live Strong wristband
ironically worn. Bionically—chin pop.
Red hairdo shorn into a flat top.
Black flip-flops slapping on the rubber.
Breeze through Check 2. Never gonna blow my cover.

Chameleon. Animalia Chordata.
Chameleon. Zygodactylous feet.
Chameleon. Stereoscopically viewing
Chameleon—melanin colorin’ me.

Chameleon. Highly modified, see.
Chameleon. Zygodactylous feet.
Chameleon. Animalia Chordata.
Chameleon—melanin colorin’ me.

Eczema patches, blue sweat shorts.
Grip a water bottle that can hold two quarts.
New Balance. White tube socks.
Little loose at the top, fly bow tie—two knots.
Striped pattern splattered with a stain.
Waddle through the blacklight, no need to explain.
Check 3? Easy to defeat.
Out the alleyway, then I slide into the street.
Man I told you—no phone booth.
I consult two dudes on the corner, get a whole new
get-up. Trade away the gear that’s in my bag.
Walk off with a guitar on my back.
25 minutes—cheap hotel.
See me when I’m finished—blend so well.
Skin-tight white denim jumpsuit—collar up.
Red buttons on the front, yeah I got enough.
Bad head broken out. Lotta acne
wrapped around my neck, now I’m looking just exactly
fresh. What’s next? Check 4.
Chin up and strut straight through that door. But
wait. Hold, man they got me by the throat.
Pull the lip back, then scan the bar code.
Grab my guitar, said “Let’s see if you can play.”
I started shreddin’ there was nothing left to say.

Gimme all the data, then I covertly
tap into your beta then I convert the
decimal points.
Let it deploy.
You get to the net and then I repeat the
key to try to get it, then I breathe deeply.
Tap it in and enter then I reap the re-
wards of the trade.
The more I get paid,
the better that I'm blendin' invisibly.

Chameleon. Highly modified, see.
Chameleon. Zygodactylous feet.
Chameleon. Animalia Chordata.
Chameleon—melanin colorin’ me.

Everywhere I'm wanted, they're offering
credit for the hunter. I'm not turning
up for the chase.
They're missing the face.
I'm running and the skin will never
stop learning.


from Trash World, released June 1, 2018
Electric guitar by Danimal Cannon
Vocals by Wheelie Cyberman, Erin Austin
Lyrics by Wheelie Cyberman
Written and performed by Supercommuter
Produced by Tron Juan and Frank Ciampi


all rights reserved




Stenobot composes beats on a Game Boy. Wheelie Cyberman adds words. Tron Juan puts it all together.

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