1. |
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Help me understand why we’re drawn to these places that thrive on our regrets and lay a ground work to our depression’s. We cloak down in a darkness, settled, drunk and protected against a fear of opening ourselves to letting others in. When I’m probably the worst of all, who am I to talk. We hide in false perceptions, and take ourselves out of equations we don’t want to solve. Do we become the bars we drink in, or do the bars become our lives? It’s every situation we’re avoiding, every expletive in down days, every momentary heartbreak when we question who’s to blame. In every spiral downward our despondency takes shape, in attempts to paralyze our feelings, we forget…there’s nothing safe in shape shifting voices, and nothing to gain with drowning our sorrows in this way.
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2. |
Oh Yeah Oh Yeah Alright!
03:04
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Make no confusion this confrontation is bearing on us, an accumulation of avoiding this moment and the emotions it would bring. We’d agree it’s puerile to find ourselves in this place, at this point when we’ve been through so much together. I’d like to think we’d laugh it off. Ha? But make no confusion, this is a solicitous me in conversation. In the evolution of everything, I’m sure you would accede. It’s time for reconnection, we need to spill our guts in anguish. At this point. Right now. Together. The way we should have done from the start. We had promises made, A platitude to everybody’s warnings, I guess lots of promises were made. It's good to see you laugh that way. Any apprehension’s are only making me a little more incited, let’s make this conclusion: You and me, we can’t be broken. We sing.
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3. |
Making Maruskas
03:03
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As if there’s some kind of understanding in the eventual pull we feel for reconnecting with the disconcerting difference that’s brought us from who we were, to who we are now. while all of us think we’re not like another, we all tend to suppress the paths we used to get here. as if there’s some kind of gain in abdicating the choices we’ve made. I would have like to believe it’d be something to eventually change in you. I hate to point out the obvious. It’s the way you’ve become conventional that’s unconventional. The spurn you have for neglecting to reflect in what’s brought you here. So what if I said that I still believed, but I’m sorry to insist that’s your biggest weakness. One flaw, just a little one that’s not that bad, you tend to miss on. Sorry.
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4. |
Etta James
03:45
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Van for sale. Shocks strained from ten years of hauling indicative weight. Rusted edges with light damage from disputing minor collisions all around the frame. Locked joints in need of anointing for re-connections, that used to be tight. Two hundred and forty thousand miles of load on an engine drained. A mess inside, trashed and cracked upholstery patched back together just to get by. Tape deck (not CD player) that works to mask a silence left unaddressed. We’ve run quiet before, but this is deeper than an easy fix. And we’ve been here before, stuck at a stop between backward and forward falls. Stall’s in more than one way. Has replaced brakes. Badly needs oil changed, fresh blood for one last start to circulate the sludge from the drains. Drive shaft’s soft torsion have stressed the wheel’s rotations. Causing a lack of torque to propel us at all.
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5. |
Re Titled
02:28
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I've been needing a place to put my things, somewhere to call a home for a while. It's been back, it's been forth, it's been forced, and i'm forced to have a natural smile. Sometimes all I need is a relief, and all I ask for is a little stability. My shortcomings have shown their face and neglected my ability to count on anything. And we always look behing to make excuses for the present, testing out worth, with bottles filled with lies, regret, and dissatisfaction.
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6. |
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Sometimes we need a six pack just to sleep, or to elude the sheep-less drifts that keep us awake at night. Does this eventually dissipate? The incessant sense of feeling nothing. When’s our chance at feeling optimistic ever come? When it’s the derisive ways we see ourselves that’s depressing. It’s a blasé, short changed feeling of defeated that regenerates through our selves, and substantiates into every choice we’re (thinking of) making. Culminating in restless times for fretful minds. I understand that maybe there’s a schtick in a success-less maturity we’ve grappled with that does eventually dissipate. I just have the sense I’m doing nothing. So when’s my chance at being optimistic ever come? I’m sick of feeling tired.
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7. |
Mouth Full of Pennies
02:44
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….and there are contention’s where I can point to providence. Chance, or even “chances”, an alignment of actions that have brought us to this. Like something I eventually felt for you and something you eventually felt for me, by nothing more than snowflakes. I guess I don’t know where a definition of all this goes, but if you ask me, it’s something. And I try to hang a belief beyond a simple explanation, somewhere between where fluke meets Moirai in a junction. But subsequently, any kind of definition is just useless. Chance or fate or luck or any given synonym is only coming short of what we’ve become. Like everything I eventually felt for you and everything you eventually felt for me, there’s not even words to explain. I guess I don’t know where a definition of this would even go, I just know, we’re something.
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8. |
Uptown
01:56
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You can only do as you will, but when each night sheds a new light on the endless voids to fill, you can't help but feel the pull, can't ignore the cold of freezing sometimes. Trapped in listless ways we can’t control our lives. It rips us apart from the inside. And every new day burdens, we trade vices for voices hoping no one listens. A simple extradition won’t save the way we live our lives.
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9. |
Rare Punctuations
03:19
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We battle with brittle hearts that murmur with furtive intentions and keep bruising light, avoiding any signs of weakness or chinks in links we like to pretend are armor. We're armorless, and it shows. We can fake a way through faking ways of faking a kinship, the way we hide the way we hide the roots of our disdains. Is it even that bad to show black hearts without resentment? Why keep the bruising light, and why do we apologize for having the guts in pretending not everyone is worth wasting time or breath. This is our common bond and we're just fine.
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10. |
Turner Falls, Oklahoma
02:27
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We live lives of running ten minutes late that contract into sparse fragments of time, harder to keep when demand ourselves to take leaps and run out of ways to say fuck it. I guess sometimes it’s easier to linger in line, or maybe it’s mre a mess tangled inside of me and I get more afraid to just say fuck it. And it’s easy to fissure under the pressure; literally we’re always running out of time. Hours condense in minutes of seconds we can’t grasp. We try to keep up, foundering. I know sometimes it get’s arduous to even try. And maybe it’s a prudent game we play just to get by, but at somepoint you grow up and accept it.
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11. |
Reindeer Games (pt. 1)
02:39
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At times it feels like we are separate languages, waiting for translations that don’t quite decipher every time. So we guard ourselves, and lament when no one's willing to give in, as some kind of simple solution. There has to be something to say or our benevolence becomes a subversive drift left unexchanged. There has to be something to say. We hoodwink, and portray a satiated feeling that reads easily and translates regardless of what we say. We recant when the contamination begins to seep in and just shut our mouths.
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12. |
Pussyfoots (pt. 2)
03:20
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All you can do is take it with a grain of salt, and I know sometimes it’s not that easy, but we tend to trip and fall foot into mouth right about when we realize we should quit talking out loud. Then those moments set. Sometimes seconds, sometimes hours left to percolate with time. Or we impasse in total silence. We try, but sometimes it’s not that easy, but we prefer to cross our legs while crossing eyes right around when we realize there’s no point in talking out loud. The circle sets, we impel with inept fervor left to forget. And I see not much has changed in the little ways we correlate, but at times it’s snide answers and snide questions not meant to vitiate that way. Maybe there’s an aberrant way our routine’s fuse and cooperate. As if our privative exchanges renders the best in us someway.
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13. |
Harnessed in Slums
03:21
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