1. |
Beds And Lawns
03:28
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We both might get pneumonia. Daylight, soon will disown you. And in this rotten rain, I see you melt before my eyes, and all I built you up to me, was made from soft, sweet lies. And you were just what I needed. I needed to be defeated. And with your rouge in ruins, and they’re lying at your feet. All your casualties have cleared out, now, you’re victory’s complete. But every pretty pawn, you once championed, now they’ve all gone, to beds and lawns to sleep. But I just awoke, and your spell, it’s been broken. All I see is a soakin’, shivering child, frightened of being undone. These eyes, they once adored yours. You’ll see will only avoid yours. Wine in plastic cups are littered all across the lawn, while the fallen lay there lifeless till they can stumble home at dawn. But I just awoke, and your spell, it’s been broken, all I see is a soakin’, shivering child, frightened of being undone. You feign like you’ve been forsaken, but this bed’s, the one you’ve been making, and I fell for each fall you’ve taken, but I won’t fall no more. And in this darkened dawn, with my shirt wet against my skin. I will stumble away from here, and not return again. As the daylight begins to break, in darkness you remain, you never learned when to quit and come in from the rain. You’re soakin’!
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2. |
The Approaching Dawn
03:06
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Why can’t you notice the way water breaks the light? Or how a hazy heat obscures a summer night? Stars stall in sudden orbits, unwrapping right before us. There’s something wrong with this tight tangle of events, the clock ticks down the moon, negates our common sense. Girls slip out of dark houses, wearing their summer blouses. In the dark you could love this place. In the dark you could leave this place. And still this night feels like its never going to end rewording faulty phrases, letters you might send. Still seeking some approval no rebirth or renewal. But dawn left us wanting, dawn left us needing something else, something more.
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3. |
When You Cared
04:13
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Half-dressed in the afternoon. Addressing an empty room. But air’s gone out of it. So you start to shout a bit. You’ve been peaking out your blinds again. You’ve been sneaking outside again. There used to be something there. When you used to care. When you cared, oh you cared much too much. And you paid with punches to the gut, you couldn’t care less, you cared too much. You only spoke in absolutes. Would not accept any substitutes. Now you take, what you can get. But you can’t take back words you regret. You never had no sympathy for anyone who dare disagree. But few were brave enough to dare, when you used to care. Chorus. Did they spit your words back at you? All those lies were true to you. Did you assume that you’d be spared, on account of how much you cared? Are you sick of constantly being compared to when you cared? When you cared?
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4. |
This House Unhomed
03:37
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Did the name that you changed make a difference in the way the mirror shows your face? Is it just the sunlight you despise or is every morning a surprise? Did the place where you moved leave you wanting something more than a fresh coat of paint? Is every room a prison a prison? Is every room a cell? You can’t escape the faulty memories of years before you pray and plot most every night, your escape to distant shores. But you can’t leave, you won’t leave. Did the ache every leave your body from where your lover pressed into your skin? Is every breath still a secret? Is every breath a chore? Chorus. As you drift, into sleep where you lie, but don’t dream this fear, somewhere deep your clock can’t keep the time so well… it ticks so slow the minutes swell. But you won’t leave, you can’t leave. Is the taste in your mouth still bitter or did you choose to forget everything?
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5. |
Sick And Sore
04:41
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You get up, sick and sore, not sure what day it is, or where you are. Go out, cause that’s what you do.
You figure, better go through the motions, before they go through you. The kids come out, and the cops can’t cope, the streets are overflowing with petty promises and misplaced hope. You’re scared, so you flee to the safety and the comfort of familiar company. Everybody knows as soon as you walk in, what’s your game, and how you win. So you hide, in this crowd. Where everybody’s drinking to themselves, and thinking out loud. They’re cold and cruel, crass and corrupt, more arrogant than interesting, and so full of themselves, they’re spitting up. They finish every sentence you begin. You say it’s just a game, they say you always win. They all want to know, hey, where you been. You been right there, but they don’t care, they just ask they don’t listen. Do you dream sometimes, of going far away, where no one knows your name. Where people don’t pretend, disappoint, lie or betray, and know each mistake you’ve made. But that place don’t exist, except in wishes that you’ve made, its just a sad charade, you’re afraid to be afraid, to be afraid. In this smoke and this filth, you barely can breathe, and you’re wasting your breathe coughing up reasons to leave, ’til they run you out, then you spin out and speed, but all theses corners that you’re cutting, are starting to bleed. And they’ll bleed you to you’re just bone and skin, that’s there game, and you can’t win. Well you ain’t ever won a goddamn thing. It’s a game, you can’t win. You may not lose, but you never win. You never win.
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6. |
Frozen In Mid-Gesture
04:05
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Try and, scrape the, scabs off of your tongue. Cough and, push the, shit out of your lungs. You rip and, tear at, the skin that you’ve just stung. A futile, gesture, learned when you were young. Memories are just a well-laid trap, places that you’ve been but can’t go back. Disrupted, sleep and, equilibrium. You’re drinking to the point of delirium. Displaced, memories, you wish that you could sell haunted, by places, you once knew very well. Chorus. Notebooks, and photos will never be arranged remainders, reminders of a clock you cannot change. Memories are just a well-laid trap, places that you’ve been but can’t go back. Time’s a foreign code that you can’t crack, a lost location on a map you lack. Hope is like the spring of a trap. There’s a place you’ve never been but can’t go back.
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7. |
Going For The Gold
04:25
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When you came here you were beautiful and broke, when did you get so bold? Did you grow tired of stealing all your smokes? So you’re going for the gold. You never had nothing to say, but you still spoke anyway. You wear your airs, like an accessory. You wear a crown as you hold court. You switched from switching shifts, to now you’re selling shares (of yourself). I won’t buy, but I’ll sell you short. You’ve got keepers to keep you awake and keepers to keep you away. From the suits who record and parlay, the price you’ll eventually pay, hey, hey. Now you’re going for the gold. Every shaking hand is a chance to make your break. It’s all in who you know, you know. But every open hand is surely on the take. It won’t take too long to show. You find fashionable friends to replace, the ones you spit out like tired clichés, keep a list of your every lay, and it reads like a resume.
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8. |
Perfect Posture
04:18
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Such sweet sympathy, you give as you please. You’ve got such important things to say on everything. Graft true words onto your skin. They’re not your own, they’ve never been. Replace yourself with the clothes you’re in. Maybe there’s nothing wrong. Rain smacks in small drops like slow beats of a clock. The one you lie next to is the judge of what you do. Hide your head beneath the sheets. As all your fears, are made concrete. Pray and hope this night retreats. Maybe you got it wrong Daytime failed to keep its light, but the nighttime resurrects, all the reasons you left house and home only to perfect, the way you sit and stare right though yourself. Watch you mouth, hold your tongue wish your acts would come undone. Hide beneath a smiling face, lessons learned without a trace, confess again, just in case. Maybe you’ll fade away. Chorus. One last test to take. One less fear to fake until here comes your collapse.
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9. |
Candid Camera
02:59
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In a windowed room, where things had gone astray, I aimed my uncovered lens. And captured your stillness, in a frame. And you'll never see your face again. I'll add the caption. I'll have you say things you would not. I'll call you captive. I will put words into your mouth. Smile, smile, it's a picture. I don't care if it's awful. Smile, smile, it's a picture. It just lasts forever. In a borrowed book, I won't keep you in a frame. ‘Til the day when mistake leads you awry. And some brand new Dan finds your orphaned face, and it's all he'll ever know you by. Chorus again.
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10. |
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His breath drawn in, the clock still chimes marking the time between their breathing and breaking of promises. In mumbled words, she can’t explain why she’s drowning, like an infant in the sea screaming, is this all there is for me and you? She grabs her coat and walks out the door. The night is old so still and silent, far too quiet. Drowning, like an infant in the sea. Screaming, is this all there is for me and you? He stares at the space, waits for a sign, one that can never come. And he’s bound, to this place and time tethered, chocking on his lines drowning, like an infant in the sea. Screaming, is this all there is for me and you?
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11. |
Relax, It's Tuesday
02:32
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You wish upon the ceiling, ‘cause it’s all that you can see and when it doesn’t answer you denounce it bitterly. You’ve found yourself someplace, that’s not a place at all. But you can’t leave till you confess; you stood no chance at all. It’s not really giving in; if you were never gonna win. When you wear your work clothes, you feel like such a fraud. Is your only validation to hear someone applaud? Your waiting for approval, that’s never gonna come. You want some adoration, well, doesn’t everyone. You don’t deserve, anymore than what you earn. You say you don’t want to be, just like everybody else, just like everybody else, says. Is every path you come across nearly beat to death? The hour’s not just running late it’s weak and out of breath. Holding on to something that’s just a wish at best. A tired dream, a waste of time that should be put to rest, but you won’t let it rest. You can’t let it rest.
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12. |
The Approaching Dusk
03:37
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Autumn, left as it came. Cloudy, but the leaves have all changed. Colder, winter is here. Freezing, air crisp and so clear. Light grows short again, will this winter end? I will, I will resurrect what we were. I will, I will wash my skin, become pure. I guess, I am to blame. Stasis, you never change. Scenery, looks out of place. Repentance is not to your taste Angles become smooth as night distorts the truth. I will, I will resurrect what we were. I will, I will wash my skin, become pure. A clock ticks down a cold sun. Your actions cannot be undone. Slow hours and more of the same. Still searching for someone to blame. The lights about to fade on our grand charade. Angles become smooth as night distorts the truth I will, I will resurrect what we were. I will, I will shed my skin, become pure.
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Sorry About Dresden Chapel Hill, North Carolina
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