1. |
Negative Vermont
03:52
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Acid strips of highway on a negative Vermont
I could hardly hold my head up I was some italic font
The fear of meeting family there headlight uncles and foghorn aunts
When a salty magistrate of air
Comes ticking down
You try to frown
But in the air
You just don't care
Your judgement just amuses you
Vermilion the horse wagon descends beneath the lines of cars
The carpal tunnel rides the night Analogy dies in red bars
My text devoured by famished hands
Follow me into the sea
As I would be if I didn't see
Blurry eyed myself recede before me
Into the oceans jewelled swords and shields
So down the road of ants and sand my days an empty ampersand
An underpass of rotten data and thickets of some sub-strata
Of memory and meants-to-be the crime of life before you see
Is clothed in rags of some intrigue
And I could play in some rag band
But in the air I just don't care
My judgement just amuses me
Life is never won and never lost
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2. |
We're Not Coming Back
02:48
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Turning 'round the sun a couple times
My eyes were stitched together
Maybe there is something wrong
We're not coming back
A corner of your room is equal
In mass to your head it seems
To hover now you drag your feet
We're not coming back
Cortisol and cortisol and
Cortisol and cortisol and
Cortisol and cortisol
We're not coming back
A shining in the dark is worth
A thousand daylight factories
The square in which our jaws are cut
We're not coming back
Carburettor limbs entire
Shopping lines a murder trial
Who was that that breathed on you
We're not coming back
Swastikas of gasoline
A ring of teeth a ring of queens
The cross appears at UnSinai
We're not coming back
Fascism's banal hell
A magazine stand abandoned
Carbo-loading popes of iron
We're not coming back
Yaldabaoth, Enitharmon
Moloch, Baal, Suppositron
Yomesh, Avalokiteshvara
We're not coming back
A thousand blue mountains and
A thousand white mountains and
A thousand red mountains
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3. |
Skeletons Of Radar 559-B
04:30
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There are no shadows here the lines of a dwelling and a myth are here
Radar bones are ajar ctrl copy to the evening line
Bridges big bridges architecture of a lonely hour
Two skips a meadow of an absence tower falls inverted airs
I can feel it I can feel it mechanical the light is not alone
Estuary estuary the idol smashed the highs and lows
This place is every place
Have you wandered around the base of the tower in the morning light
Stick thin the body tries again the skull of an angel lies smashed in him
When myth speaks it always whispers dark hints of something in a radar's eyes
Towers rotting after hours you can't come back 'til zeta thousand years
I can feel it I can feel it mechanical the light is not alone
February January the cycle of the cancer of the spiral king is watching us
The seasons smashed the clock divides the temporal king is saving us
You can smile
Still stuck in the autumn like a knife
And the trees beckon me out of frame into
Out of the urn there's lichen picked by a ghost
Out of the orchard of zero
A catastrophe in time
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4. |
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I sleep on visions of balearic fire
Onanistic-historical meanings of desire
And in the nights crimson arches I enquire
I am peasant worker
I am itinerant worker
The seeds of a seed pod = my enemy
Nature
For aeons upon centuries, I thought of life as a ball game between light and dark. I a great towering player, a striker of metaphysical bonds, the frenzied steps between cracks and shadows a modernist field. I plucked the phenomenological feathers off the carcass of this great game. Convinced of my righteousness, I travelled the bazaars of Kent'jaal and the concourses of North-East Westphalia in search of its outer limits. It was in a gambling shack in Yevenygrad that I was beat half to death by sinusoid thugs and their equations. I was swelling up rotundly, quickly, a shadowy figure spat and said "no half measures quantifico." Shivering, growing, I started in horror. "I am no player in this game. I am the ball! Jesus Christ I am the ball!"
I am the ball
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5. |
Anti-Nostalgia
02:47
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This little mantra is just a device I put in the song
Its okay its alright its okay
Its just a guitar and my voice locked up in a room
Its okay its alright its okay
Regard the music preceding this one as propaganda
I'll never make another sound
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