1. |
Noface
03:47
|
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|
Sleep alone in sunlight.
Streets uncombed and trailing waste.
Another "1 loss" to keep.
I'm not an actor but I
use to play one on TV,
before the sun got to me.
Leaving paper childhood.
Leafless on the boulevard.
Uncuffed in name but couldn't write.
A novel apprehension
of apparitions aptly shunned,
above the frame with golden eyes.
Sleep alone
in sunlight.
Streets uncombed.
Skin untied.
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2. |
Ballad Of Big Nothing
02:55
|
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|
Throwing candy out to the crowd
Dragging down the main
The helpless little thing with the dirty mouth
Who's always got something to say
You're sitting around at home now waiting for your brother to call
I saw him down in the alley
Having had enough of it all
Said you can do what you want to whenever you want to
You can do what you want to there's no one to stop you
All spit and spite you're up all night and down every day
A tired man with only hours to go just waiting to be taken away
Getting in to the back of a car for candy from some stranger
Watching the parade with pinpoint eyes full of smoldering anger
You can do what you want to whenever you want to
You can do what you want to there's no one to stop you
Now you can do what you want to whenever you want to
Do what you want to whenever you want to
Do what you want to whenever you want to
Though it doesn't mean a thing
Big nothing
|
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3. |
Common Pest
03:56
|
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|
Deer in the headlights heading south
Bottle by your bedside for the coming drought
So much for growing up so fast
Couldn't even take the comedown.
Talk 'til your head's numb making bets
Following the breadcrumbs of a common pest
Looking from too far out to see the crowd
You bet against yourself again.
Rain on the windshield deer on the hood
Lost kites and pinwheels glass in your foot
You claim your prize in your own mind
And keep standing where you've always stood
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4. |
Birthday Song
03:00
|
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|
It's someone else's birthday today
The snow has melted and turned back to rain
Someone somewhere has forgotten that
It happens every year
Up for a minute running in place
A mirror-image postcard keepsake
Sent from the other side of the earth
Still doesn't keep me warm
|
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5. |
November
02:51
|
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|
Waking up again on yesterday's floor
Watching the dust dance in the sun
Walking past rows of little houses
With white roses out front
Only in the glow of the tail lights
Were they finally painted red
In the eternal second
Before I find my racing head.
This grey highway sky is a temple
Embraced by it rising gently
Where lie the lives of last November?
Only ghosts live forever
Laying down my skin at tomorrow's door
Watching the sun turn to dust
There's music playing from up above
As the cameras pan out on us
I can't tell if it's the ending credits
Or the Opening
Of some unfamiliar yet
Strangely hopeful scene
This grey highway sky is a temple
Embraced by its rising tempo
Near are the night of next November
Seeds in a sober slumber
This grey highway sky it trembles
Incased brined in dying embers
Looking for the lights of this November
In a sea of stormy weather
|
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6. |
Autophagy
02:09
|
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|
I can feel your derision rising from the wood I found in winter.
All vents breathing in the same smoke
A forest of fractured climates beyond the legend of wolves
A recycled ever-shrinking image
It grows when listening but the walls never leave
Your textbook bile
The gaps between lines savored
The wolves were all smoke and you were just wood
|
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7. |
No Name
02:46
|
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|
Smoke in the morning air
Scraps for the wolves in wait
Scratching your chalkboard wounds
With cold distaste
I saw a child there
Drawing a figure 8
Under a blanket
Of old mistakes
Circling endlessly
Through the circuitry
Making mountains from
Moments of weakness
Plastic stigmata gown
A scrap for the laughing stock
Scrape up the papercuts
To spit back at your god
Ducttape the camera's mouth
Tie to the ticking clock
It's all a perfect line
At least that's what you thought.
Circling endlessly
Through the circuitry
Making mountains from
Moments of weakness
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8. |
Adult Decisions
01:05
|
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|
6 in the morning i've been
Turning dirt over just
Looking
For a piece that feels like me
Glass snow lines the walls and windows
But this room is on fire
And I'm feeling hollow again
Another deadend roundabout
Circling on stolen wings
I don't care no I don't care
Until the end is near
Written like an old cliche
Just like everything I say
I don't care no I don't care
Just shut your fucking mouth
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Indigo Smith Oles Madison, Wisconsin
The fruit of rumination and run-of-the-mill escapism.
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