Three Sheets to Kishkiyya · Track 4 · middle
Blotto
VOLUME I — being gloriously, world-tilting DRUNK (the night at full tilt). The idiom and the song's title hook: "Blotto". Its true history: UK, 1917 — from blotting paper soaking up ink; the drink soaks up and blots out the brain and the memory, all the way to blackout. Render this beat of the night as the band's affectionate, funny, celebratory tribute — the idiom itself is the chorus hook.
Lyrics
[Intro] The edges of the room are getting soft [Verse 1] Back in 1917, they kept it on the desk A thick and heavy square to catch the mess When the fountain pen would slip and leave a stain They’d press the paper down to save the page I am sitting in this velvet booth right now Watching all the neon letters softly bow [Chorus] I’m getting blotto, soaking up Every drop inside this heavy little cup Like a sheet of paper on a spreading spill Watch my memory absorb the sudden thrill The ink is running off the edge of me And I am blotto, beautifully [Verse 2] There’s a comfort in the way the colors bleed Losing every sharp and necessary need Just a sponge taking the whiskey and the gin Erasing where the evening might have been I'm a blotter pad for every joke you tell And tomorrow I won't ring a single bell [Chorus] Cause I’m getting blotto, soaking up Every drop inside this heavy little cup Like a sheet of paper on a spreading spill Watch my memory absorb the sudden thrill The ink is running off the edge of me And I am blotto, beautifully [Bridge] They say the blackout is a sudden dark But I feel like a lovely watermark Spreading out, unwritten and undone Soaking up the shadows and the sun Wait, where did the table go? [Chorus] Doesn't matter, I'm blotto, soaking up Every drop inside this heavy little cup Like a sheet of paper on a spreading spill Watch my memory absorb the sudden thrill The ink is running off the edge of me And I am blotto, beautifully [Outro] Press it down. Lift it up. Nothing left to read. Just the spill.