1. |
Another Gold Day
03:16
|
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the colder it gets the more I feel my skin
floating from the wall and from the bed
on another gold day
who’s calling
the bike ride’s half a block away
to madrona city park free slurpee day
a cloud looks like a door is closing
we must move quickly
or risk the whole damn day inside waiting for the rain
to drag you
and oh the light that shines through the dirt
to wrap arms around the other
help you to be a better brother
allow you to be a better son
why drink yourself into the void
if you can’t remember having any fun
|
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2. |
Control
02:41
|
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a three in the morning moon is blistering
half wrong
if the last to leave controls the trees
then my legs are branches
bowing down and carrying me home
toward a boring future
over the garden wall
where a stranger bites my fingernails
a passerby that pulls my hair
a store clerk that peruses my face for blemishes
my eyelids for wrinkles
he pulls me out of the mirror and into a world
with less bukowski bullshit and more love
cause you have lost control of your body
it’s time to put yourself to bed
so much for reaching for the phone
your fingers tremble tapping slowly
pacing out an ugly stream of fleeting drunk poetic garbage
in there no one wants find out
the things that I don’t know
|
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3. |
Bug
03:48
|
|||
that was the place that harbored me in ‘22
the many corners I kept for you
cause when I feel lonely there are many I call friend
just open windows to let em in
say good morning to each of them
snakes, spiders, and silverfish
take the doors off of the house
teen punks rip the walls out
make floor space for each pal
on minnesota there’s a town that comes goes
each month the city comes and takes it to the dump
sends the neighbors crashing
under the overpass as if there isn’t room
as if Dock Ellis had ever knew
same year that The Beatles blew
be the best game he ever threw
there is a stranger in my room
all 8 eyes staring right at you
instinct can’t tell you what to do
except to wear the color blue
i do too
|
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4. |
Autumn
04:36
|
|||
a tattooed figure on your thumb
only lonely never numb
midday coffee like the depth of time
keeps me awake at night
no rush I’ve missed the bus
to drown myself in tea leaves
with no furniture to sit on
but I’m drinking something warm
autumn autumn draws circles on your cheek
the kinder words that I’m inclined to say
(can’t see a way around)
keep evil shit from growing in my brain
(another passenger inbound)
is this the price we pay
to keep from laying in our old ways
are you lost this time today
from swimming in the leaves
are you lost this time today
from swinging in the trees
doom metal music
reading Gaiman on the floor
even though Frey made the seasons
he had trade trade the sword
just as trying not to hide
leads a rose parade of lies
where the manic go to die
surprised by every bird who’s ever sang to me
|
||||
5. |
Home Life
03:32
|
|||
a space at home to watch
the mudded walls grow arms to flip him off
in a bed of leaves where they can’t touch him
only wave come on come on come on come on
there’s no future that you want
a trip out of town through the tv
a wide web could set you free
if you believe it enough don’t save for the day when you leave
and if you reach out
you can touch him
and he’ll say come on come on
we’re waiting for the dawn to come
and then we’ll take you home
you can trace a black hole in the back of your hand
where it spits it all out
if the best place to lay is not in your bed oh well
it is where you make it
there’s no use being stubborn or sore to lose
i’ll just leave it all up to the world to make up its mind
a license plate, passport, a cellphone and glasses
my camera
take it all
|
||||
6. |
Circles
01:02
|
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7. |
Head Holder
02:48
|
|||
what’s that hand you hold
growing from your head
growing from your nose
wrapped up around the bones
of all as one at once
even when time slows
the silver speech
a ploy to make you hate your body
the blood that feeds plants
an earth that loves you all the same
half baking bad ideas
that get you high and make you sick
as art that brought Tom onto campus
sent him crawling to the sink
when all that’s all the mess of you
always tries the best to keep coming
all that’s small and destitute
can rot in holy hell and drain away
find an old way
to see you soon
the nicest time of year in the arctic
melts me to you to me
what’s that hand you hold
growing from your head
growing from your nose
as puddles on the floor
all as one at once
seeping into the soil
|
||||
8. |
Poets
03:02
|
|||
when I walk in the living room
and something on the screen pulls me in
at ease from the doubling
Jack sings me here’s Johnny
it makes me feel cold
Laurelhurst is a numbers game
what’s the best one that you’ve seen
point it out on the marquee
and I don’t want to know anything
expectation writes poetry I’ll read to myself
the voices speak over the score
keep it down
and let’s stay for the quiet parts
I hear explosions through the wall
I think somebody lost it
Cate Blanchett made me cry
all evilness aside
I think I know why
pockets full empty eyes
it’s much more fun not to try
Icelandic truth say poets lie
but it only hurts if you let them speak over the score
bad poets make liars of honest words
so keep it down
|
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9. |
Heart Attack
03:58
|
|||
there is a light on at the foot of my friend
his hair blows in the wind
it clogs the drain and floods the streets
and I’m the one left there to clean it
he cleans the smog off the interstate
and bathes in the acid rain
twirling like a twister
coming from the air
conditioning my hair
its cooler not to care i guess
there is a dead branch
that waves in the wind
calling to him
smile like it matters
maybe eating batteries and planting trees
will make it easier to breath
ditch my car and take the max
bike across the overpass
so I won’t have a heart attack
heart attack I won’t have a heart attack
|
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10. |
Watch It Go
06:33
|
|||
it’s all that you want
a bouquet of problems
growing daily in the lawn
but the flower in your hand
has got no petals on it
so you run around the long way
cause when you fly you don’t look small
even though it seems as so
from the ground oh
write it down so
all this truth that we wanted
gets a vacation from order
painting trash and burning canvas in the street
like nothing
once you get back home
and give a rest to your body
once you get back home
there’s nothing left but your body
oh if I couldn’t face it
i’d be complacent with the rest of it
at once get back home
and tend to what’s left of you
|
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