1. |
Scuba Gear
02:35
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The van is packed with trash
but has new tires
for the long haul to the landfill
and we're sacred in our claims
to use the greenest things
we can buy by the handful
the macerated masticated
glory of the hopeless iteration
the shamelessness is red and swole and bursting to pour ashes down our foreheads
To survive
we’re gonna need
scuba gear
With meetings held a mile deep
Below dispersants goading our condition
and suits that fill with wind and sweat and mouths that bulge with airy propositions
can my body ever help
or am I doomed to worsen our position
does admission make a guilty person less depraved or simply show volition
To survive
we’re gonna need
scuba gear
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2. |
Midnight Batshit
02:56
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Wasted moments
Is there meaning in time
Do we have an inheritance/
to guard with our lives
is their precious value/
inherent and old
that melts to deformity/ in between our new roles
Midnight. Batshit. Headache. Heart-itch.
The odor of cremation/
Is a syrupy taste
will it quench the thirst too
Never be late
water logged paper
Shapeless path
No became or becoming
No future no past
Midnight. Batshit. Headache. Heart-itch.
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3. |
Unknowns
03:24
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There’s a big hand,
There’s a big hand I can’t see
does it push out,
or is that something inside me
I swear I can feel it,
every time I’m on my feet
So I sit down,
with the hope of being free
And I stretch out,
maybe I can get beneath
If I curl up,
could I for once just not be seen
For when I stand up,
there’s always something in my teeth
I’m not digesting,
all the things I cannot see
Which act will heal unknowns
There’s a big pen, writing stories about me
And I can read them, but I don’t know what they mean
just like the words that, show up when I am asleep
If I could live them, oh what an unknown sweet release
and I stretch out, maybe I can get beneath
If I curl up, could I for once just not be seen
for when I stand up, there’s always something in my teeth
I’m not digesting all the things I cannot see
Which act will heal unknowns
What have we got,
what have we got,
what have we bought
This is our quest,
this is our best,
this is our curse
There’s a big hand, there’s a big hand I can’t see
does it push out, or is it something inside me
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4. |
Candy and Poppy
03:31
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Thanks for watching CNN
Thanks for watching anything
Get yourself the coldest drink
and thank yourself for joining in
the verdict must be coming down the judgement of the fine young men
their futures to be set in stone
the scholarships they might have owned
HONESTLY, Honestly, Honestly , Honestly, Honestly
zoom in on his young wet eyes the pouches dark to symbolize
the sleepless nights beneath the weight,
the weight and weights they subjugate
close up of their nervous hands, their mother’s lips that quiver hard
chair backs soaked with chilly sweat
not far from where they’re watching tape
HONESTLY, Honestly, Honestly , Honestly, Honestly
The most important thing is fun
The most important thing is done
HONESTLY, Honestly, Honestly, Honestly
From Uniform to uniform
HONESTLY, Honestly, Honestly, Honestly
Stubenville, Ohio, We Howl!
They keep her name inside a vault and try to make it seem her fault
they push her from within the walls
and keep her isolation full
she has her own identity
Honestly, Honestly, Honestly , Honestly, Honestly
Society is absent here
in its duty to protect
more quick to judge a woman’s choice*
than listen for a woman’s voice
she has her own identity
Honestly, Honestly, Honestly , Honestly, Honestly
I’d like to have her name inscribed and all survivors of my time
and to forget a single one
it feels like shame to be in sun
she has her own identity
Honestly, Honestly, Honestly , Honestly, Honestly
not one more if I could help
and if I don’t then what to do
to speak when fear is in my spine and resist being mute and blind
she has her own identity
Honestly, Honestly, Honestly , Honestly, Honestly
Stubenville, Ohio, We Howl! (4X)
*These words are written in disgust at the idea that women bear any responsibility in a situation of assault, we all believe strongly that survivors of assault do not have any "choice" in the constant attacks upon their body's and their thoughts.
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5. |
Ice Cream Parlor
03:11
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On the tidal wave above the bed
in the cresting foam above their heads
you can almost see what rides inside
the broken box with shattered sides
fingers have fit through splintered gaps
and reach for nothing through the cracks
but meet each other on the shore
and consolation mutes their roar
What dead end wall will greet our feet
what absolute will meet our needs
which brick will fall to let light through
which bit of concrete comes unglued
Here here’s where it was found
here’s where every piece was found
here here’s where it was found
one piece of every piece was found
here here’s where it was found
not too quiet not too loud
here here’s where it was found
the words were facing upside down
Each hair was plucked
one at a time
the stretch of skin
from elastic line
on coolest vinyl down to rest
the cone was dripping down their chest
was not the pressure that did them in
with tonsils shoved against their chins
and staples pried from fabric taut
as nails slide underneath their slots
what dead end wall will greet our feet
what absolute will meet our needs
which brick will fall to let light through
which bit of concrete comes unglued
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6. |
Mt. Vernon
00:15
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7. |
I Wouldn't Say That
03:09
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the crap inside the snack machine
was substanceless and had no worth
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
the pretzels stale the cola flat the water
warm and bottled up
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
chocolate melted to the rings
yet flaky, oxidized and pale
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
and yet we shook with all our strength
so something might reveal itself
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
the springs inside give little gasps
they have no time to scream at all
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
finger smudges on the glass and
corners splayed with tiny cracks
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
if nothing moves then nothings there
the crumpled bags just painted on
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
just give up something something please
it could be really anything
Smile
thats a really weird smile
mouth is filled up with tiles
thats a really weird smile
mouth is filled up with
sticky crumbs now drop from nails into the
keyboard’s leveled shelves
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
they slow down work they slow down pace
they multiply within the space
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
soda held in shaky hand to calm the nerves
with extra fizz
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
the cap is gone it is no more it rolled across
the concrete floor
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
might as well get back to task to cleaning
out these tiny cracks
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
fingernails they’re cut too short and pens
to blunt to pry within
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
focus focus on the keys and on the space
that lies beneath
(I wouldn't Say that, I wouldn’t say that)
how else will the dirt come out that makes the wretching shrieking scream (shout)
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8. |
Water, Food, and Light
03:09
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If the tractor ruts aren’t in any way a clue
how the pavements crushed and the sidewalks set askew
close the bedroom door come just halfway down the stairs
see the clustered men hunched so rigid in their chairs
This-this is not why I built this home
To See the drafting of despair
But for those of us who won’t fight
We pay with water food and light
I’m putting everyone out,
I’m putting everyone out
I’m turning everyone on,
I’m turning everyone on
With the curving line
cutting through the makeshift map
and the easel’s legs
resting careless on the caps
of acrylic jugs
that were rarely halfway full
but have sealed themselves
in response to endless lull
I'm putting everyone out
I'm turning everyone on
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9. |
Something Left Behind
03:53
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The Thought of sleeping
the thought of sleeping on this ground makes me sick
the thought of crouching low and clutching my ribs
the thought of hoping
the thought of hoping that the rain wouldnt come
wetness pervasive to the tip of my thumb
the thought of reaching
the thought of reaching for the cardboard to feel
less of my ear against the edge of the rail
the thought of burning
the thought of burning up the streamers that wind
between the potholes and the liters of wine
we might be something left behind, we might be something left behind
eyelash lifted from cigarette ashes (X4)
bathroom sketches and phantom habits
the thought of sleeping sleeping in this bed makes me sick
i just roll over and i cover my lips
the thought of hoping
the thought of hoping for the footsteps return
rotating doorknob and lowering skirt
the thought of reaching
the thought of reaching for the pile of clothes
heavy like nothing that i’ve lifted before
the thought of burning
the thought of burning not a moment’s regret
teenagers fantasies my best pleasure yet
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10. |
Remind Me
02:35
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Fissures abound in my face
from all the water that’s poured
from the ducts in my eyes
to all the ruts in the floor
why i pour is not clear
and why I scream is obscured
by the swirl of the colors
that comes after the birds
that swoop out of the grey
and flash back into the blue
with the trembling burst
of their tropical plumes
which explode towards the clouds
and has their pillowy touch
but will strangle your lungs
no matter what you have
Please Remind Me
Can't get you out of my mind
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11. |
This Lonely
03:04
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This lonely rakes
my hair and…
undresses me
for bed mid-day
or does no-thing
smell like fog
Swallowing fog
Sits on my chest
Makes forgetful
This lonely swallows
my body all limp and spilled
like sound like song
It..asks me questions
all rhetorical
When will I see you
I am unsure
how to...move with my words
I am clumsy like my memories
I am clumsy like my memories
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12. |
Have Not Hold
04:31
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Wake up comes the scream from the halls
from the rafters from the pipes from the walls
crescendo to the shriek and the shrill
overpowering all the hammering drills
from the balls of the feet to the gills
from the toes to the edge of the nails
movement measured as corporate thrill
sleep is viewed as any element still
we build
we build but we don’t make
we make but we don’t have
we have but we don’t hold
shackle might be too soft a word
for the metal that cacoons lower thirds
unabridged from the belt to the spurs
flesh and steel meager partners in work
likewise arms feel so free unrestrained
free to pull, turn, and hold to the chains
its a gas leak that will take us from here
cumbrous bodies shed to take us to air
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