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So we took the shooter (Taffeta: back to Clearie's lab)
right back to her
Trampled through gooey mossy bayou
to the secret laboratory (Wormgear: secret laboratory)
And on the way back lots of bots dropped in to stop us.
But Sulphide popped em with a magnet magnum and
hogtied them with a lasso of gas.

One of Clearie’s diamond bots just sneered there not in fear of us.
And with a giggle and a little wriggle said we’d never find what we were seeking anyway.
Crystal Clearie’s lab was built on stilts and it was always crawling along,
Like a giant pond-skimmer on the surface on the swamp now slowly sneaking away.

So I unscrewed all the parts of his circuit board,
rearranged some cogs pulled out all the clogs
Got myself access to his memory logs. (::PERMISSION GRANTED::)
And then I scanned through all the code that Crystal had wrote,
Surprised to find not a single line about the plan conquer the Cogswallop bog.

I heard she’s got a fire
Burning in her body.

And so I led the way to the secret swampland hideaway
With the drone bot’s clone thoughts as the treasure map for guiding our team.
And soon we came along to a cavern wall hidden by a waterfall
Protected by a smokescreen of blown jets exploding with a corrosive load of steam.

I heard she’s got a fire
Burning in her body.

I heard she’s got a fire
Burning in her body.
It’s got two kinds of colors,
With hues both odd and gaudy.

The Sulphide Shooter sniped out all the turrets
And with a singular shot she blew to smithereens.
Now with the jets off we crossed the waterfall,
And Taffeta still had the key,
But waiting for us was Wormgear.


Upgrade number three!


The Shooter cocked a clockwork glock
But Taffeta knew we could never beat him.
She dropped her cannon and
boldly strolled right over to meet him.

"Have I got an offer for you, my friend.
So before you go scorching,
You’re not a slaving soldier to a human’s command,
And I’d pay you a fortune." (Taffeta: I'd pay you a fortune)

And just like that
Taffeta was the boss
Of the baddest bot in Cogswallop.


Take us to Crystal Clearie.
Destroy anything that gets in our way.


Yes, boss.


We found the phantom conqueror with chains on her hands.
Crystal clearly hadn’t tried to divide the land.
The collective consciousness of the bots took command,
With plans to wipe out human kind and expand.


They’ve been building an unyielding sorceress to field the game,
With shields of diamond and my steel to seal her frame.
Crystal claimed we could tame the dame with perfect aim,
Put out the power source inside her, the dichroic flame.


Lucky for y’all, having perfect aim is how I got my name.


I've got your back, shooter.


Now sing along if you know it:

As robo as a gobo lobe of strobe light fighting
dynamite, that’s bright as night as noble biting
bytes of old binary, binding bits from a canary
fairy that carries a blaring stereo inciting
chronic monochromatic chroma key boards
of circuitry a two-by-four circus of cords.


from Boss​-​Out, released January 26, 2017
Written and performed by Benjamin Simon



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Flyaway Frost and the Magic Turtles Omaha, Nebraska

Wonky glampop story songs. Always colorful, often strange, playfully corny. Think Animal Collective crossed with They Might Be Giants.

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