If you know Frank Ocean, you know that his music has a very unique, special, tranquil vibe. One of my favorite songs by Frank is Pink Matter, in which he uses intricate lyrics to tell a story which has always sent me into my own head to untangle the stresses which are overtaking me at the time. He mentions pink and purple matter, and falling into someone else’s care. He discusses the mind, as well as space and time. I find the song to be trippy, relaxing, and beautifully done. These pieces of art that I created for the CD, CD cover, and album casing/covering, are embodying exactly how the song makes me feel and what I picture in my head as I close my eyes and enjoy the song. The lyrics are below.
And the peaches and the mangos
That you could sell for me
That you could sell for me
What do you think my brain is made for
Is it just a container for the mind?
This great grey matter
Sensei replied, "What is your woman?
Is she just a container for the child?"
That soft pink matter
Cotton candy, Majin Buu, oh, oh, oh
Close my eyes and fall into you, you, you
My God, she's giving me pleasure
Is it just a container for the mind?
This great grey matter
Sensei replied, "What is your woman?
Is she just a container for the child?"
That soft pink matter
Cotton candy, Majin Buu, oh, oh, oh
Close my eyes and fall into you, you, you
My God, she's giving me pleasure
Oh, no, no
What if the sky and the stars are for show
And the aliens are watching live
From the purple matter?
Sensei went quiet then violent
We sparred until we both grew tired
Nothing mattered
Cotton candy, Majin Buu, oh, oh, oh, oh
Dim the lights and fall into you, you, you, ooh
My God, giving me pleasure
Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure
Pleasure over matter
What if the sky and the stars are for show
And the aliens are watching live
From the purple matter?
Sensei went quiet then violent
We sparred until we both grew tired
Nothing mattered
Cotton candy, Majin Buu, oh, oh, oh, oh
Dim the lights and fall into you, you, you, ooh
My God, giving me pleasure
Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure
Pleasure over matter
Since you been gone, I been having withdrawals
You were such a habit to call
I ain't myself at all, had to tell myself, "Naw
She better with some fella with a regular job"
I didn't wanna get her involved
By dinner Mr. Benjamin was sitting in awe
Hopped into my car, drove far
Far's too close and I remember my memory's no sharp
Butter knife, what a life, anyway
I'm building y'all a clock, stop, what am I, Hemingway?
She had the kind of body that would probably intimidate
Any of 'em that were un-southern, not me, cousin
If models are made for modelin'
Thick girls are made for cuddlin'
Switch worlds and we can huddle then
Who needs another friend? I need to hold your hand
You'd need no other man, we'd flee to other lands
You were such a habit to call
I ain't myself at all, had to tell myself, "Naw
She better with some fella with a regular job"
I didn't wanna get her involved
By dinner Mr. Benjamin was sitting in awe
Hopped into my car, drove far
Far's too close and I remember my memory's no sharp
Butter knife, what a life, anyway
I'm building y'all a clock, stop, what am I, Hemingway?
She had the kind of body that would probably intimidate
Any of 'em that were un-southern, not me, cousin
If models are made for modelin'
Thick girls are made for cuddlin'
Switch worlds and we can huddle then
Who needs another friend? I need to hold your hand
You'd need no other man, we'd flee to other lands
Grey matter
Blue used to be my favorite color
Now I ain't got no choice
Blue matter
Blue used to be my favorite color
Now I ain't got no choice
Blue matter
You're good at being bad
You're bad at being good
For heaven's sakes, go to hell
Nah, knock on wood, hey
You're good at being bad (you're bad at being good)
You're bad at being good (for heaven's sakes, go to hell, knock on wood)
For heaven's sakes, go to hell
Knock, knock, knock, knock on wood
Well, frankly, when that ocean so m********* good
Make her swab the m******* wood
Make her walk the m******* plank
Make her rob a m******* bank
With no mask on and a rusty revolver
You're bad at being good
For heaven's sakes, go to hell
Nah, knock on wood, hey
You're good at being bad (you're bad at being good)
You're bad at being good (for heaven's sakes, go to hell, knock on wood)
For heaven's sakes, go to hell
Knock, knock, knock, knock on wood
Well, frankly, when that ocean so m********* good
Make her swab the m******* wood
Make her walk the m******* plank
Make her rob a m******* bank
With no mask on and a rusty revolver
