1. |
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an urge to wake
crispy air lends itself to my neck
and it asks me,
“what warmth do you have left?”
and I said,
I said,
“I’ll drain my demons by bleeding,
convince the dead to reason with my feelings,
feelings”
I keep my eyes
on that red fence,
a color of the most jagged sense
and I’ve found a way
to keep the static at bay
till you return
“I’ll drain my demons by bleeding,
convince the dead to reason with my feelings,
and I’ll,
I’ll drain my demons by bleeding”
crispy air maneuvers its hairy tongue again
and it asks me, “where have you been?”
and I said,
I said, “I’ve been convinced”
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2. |
Our Nails
02:39
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we believe in lights
and they are with me when you’re not
our nails are swift pretenders,
grow as our harvest rots
and all our ease is on the roof
what a sight
darkness warms our bodies in the night
darkness warms our bodies in the night
and we see bodies behind red fence
and we see bodies behind red fence
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3. |
Bookshelves
02:33
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I’ve been gone so long
from this state of mind
and it feels so good to just
swim and blush
and sing the songs
that other voices sing so well
I’ve been gone for not so long
all the bricks are still the same
although a year and some change
is never enough to change their ways
I didn’t think so
bookshelves that talk to themselves
bookshelves that talk...
bookshelves that talk to themselves
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4. |
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on its ropes,
the full moon comes too soon
fortune, it knows,
glowing, old balloon
adhere to its truth
blessed harvest
we’ll pick
the barbed wire
sets the tone
when it’s sewn, interlocked
spirits cut to the bone
all hail, the full moon before you
on my own terms
the seasons grew
all hail, the full moon before you
now we lay here,
equilibrium of joy and fear,
swallowing sterile floors,
await our escape at the door
all hail, the full moon before you
on my own terms
the seasons grew
all hail, the full moon before you
on its ropes,
the full moon comes too soon
fortune, it knows,
glowing, old balloon
adhere to its truth
like fury, to soothe
as the Earth
splits in two
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5. |
Hand Gestures
01:17
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anger in an automobile
if there’s another way
to communicate
then I’m all ears,
then I’m all ears
but these hand gestures
will have to do
until you run me off the road
but these hand gestures
will have to do
until you find and burn my home
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6. |
Clay Pigeons
01:56
|
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|
carry me brightly
on one side of
parted road
street lights will lead me
like ghosts from home,
like ghosts from home
and I won’t leave,
in transit with me,
we are speeding to say
that are brains are like circuits
and our bodies like clay,
our bodies like clay
“clay pigeons”, “clay pigeons”
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7. |
Lake Zoar
02:57
|
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|
I’ll take mine
and you’ll keep yours,
Lake Zoar,
I feel your teeth in mine
I feel your teeth whisper to me,
“someday, we may meet”
I’ll take mine
on Route 34,
Lake Zoar,
I feel that grinding halt
words to a problem unsolved
the Earth is your sea
and we may meet
we shake hands on Saturn’s rings
we watch the Earth
and the way it sings
we’ll plummet back down
we’re like seeds in the ground
as we raid Earth’s core
for wealth
Lake Zoar
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8. |
Marigolds
04:11
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|
I saw that specter
in the shadowed wall
I saw its teeth as it grilled me
mighty tall
so this is purgatory
so this is purgatory
arms lined with marigolds
kissed our mouths
arms lined with marigolds
wear us down
wear us down
that night on Park Street,
where we sat and ate
you were hungry
I was hungry
I saw that specter
in the shadowed wall
I saw its teeth as it grilled me
mighty tall
our godless bodies
spread to godless ground
cults of songs in worship
will surely wear us...
cults of songs in worship
will surely wear us...
arms lined with marigolds
kissed our mouths
arms lined with marigolds
wear us down
arms lined with marigolds
kissed our mouths
arms lined with marigolds
wear us down
wear us down
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9. |
My Ceremonial Life
03:48
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I’ll follow spirits home tonight
into their arms, into their lives
deliver me, like cold snakes
from their belts and their waists,
but I’ll be heading home
and I’m fine with that
I’m alright with that
bad taste still haunts my bones
voyeur,
may be a child of the night,
and until dawn, ceremonial life
deliver me,
like cold snakes,
from their belts and their waists
but I’ll be heading home
and I’m fine with that
I’m alright with that
bad taste still haunts my bones
I’ll follow spirits home tonight
into their arms, into their lives
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Ryan Kalentkowski recommends:
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This sweet, mournful “loose concept” album from folk artist Ian McCuen tracks a journey across the bleak landscape of American life.
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Sparkling and knotty indie rock from this Australian group with interlocking guitars and shifting rhythms.
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