1. |
Burn and Rage
01:28
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Seven billion bound by infinite
words
infinite
worlds
of hurt and burden
and worth in question
imperfect lettering
Misspell the better days
with empty nights
of dialogue
in skulls
out of sight
Draped in self-righteous displays
of my bold typeset uppercase
I AM EVIDENCE OF MEANINGLESS RHETORIC AND WORDS OUT OF
place.
Curled up in the cotton of monotony
(Maybe I'm just getting older)
Honesty's a suicide note tucked inside a dictionary
(Or finally feeling sober)
It's birds perched on a skyscraper staring at the ground
(Familiar faces everywhere)
It's the snow softly weeping as it seeps into Spring
(And I'm struggling to care)
We're aware there's an answer to everything somewhere above, or before, or behind in this relative, half-second fragmented prison of victimless oxygen, blood, space, and time.
I am one word
drowning in infinite.
I am one word drowning in infinite direction.
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2. |
Samantha
04:17
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These days you're not made until you make something,
But I fear you're not free until you break something;
Something near,
Something dear,
Something close to home.
What's the point of creation if you can't learn to let go?
I've lived this life an Autumn leaf, a crescent moon, an old woman with her hands chained by foreign diamonds. I've delivered the news to the children standing awkwardly as they lapped at my ankles and shouted words that hover in smoke.
I was in that holy church the day
your father killed himself,
that girl we knew lost her nerve,
and my Granddad died in his sleep,
and I hoped to God that they had never known my faith,
and I only say "God" when I'm scared,
or deeply unprepared.
But in those moments I am nothing more
than flesh rotting away,
and the memories:
just insects feeding off of my decay.
So one day I found myself in that casket.
They pulled me out;
they threw me a suit stitched together
with documents,
and pixie sticks,
and cigarettes,
and told me I was "ready now".
I didn't know what meant,
but I complied,
and leaned up
and looked around.
They told me to stand tall,
and proud,
and give a bow.
These days you're not made until you make something,
but I'm trying to break everything.
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3. |
Golden Gate
02:51
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(Waking up at 5 AM
turn the lights on,
it's still dark.
Grab some paper and a pen,
then take a long walk in the park.
Solidify the thoughts up in your head:
Wonder what it'll be like when it's all over.)
I'M NOT FUCKING SCARED, I DESERVE THIS
Goodnight my pictures on the wall.
Goodnight my precious Golden Gate.
It's only fitting that it should come to this:
Good morning only god I've ever known.
I ask you to swallow me
in your constancy
and dissolve me across your shores.
I am intangible
and small enough to feel
your arms beckon me
back and forth.
PAIN
(Someone call an ambulance! Someone call an ambulance!)
LESS
Drown me in a life worthy, a love deserving, a heart worthy of death
FALL.
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4. |
Barry Bonds
03:37
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Stare at the wall until it turns into a landscape.
Find yourself standing in miles of snow.
Dream of tomorrow until it turns into last week.
Find yourself last week, an hour ago.
Creep like a child.
Preach like a teardrop
left on a smile
empty and dried out
and dangling in fluorescent light.
There goes your last sacred song in the dead of night.
Suffer in bloom.
Strange fear of water.
Sun bursting through.
Faith under covers.
Fighting for warmth in silence;
Fighting for quiet and peace in the fire.
Where have you been?
I thought you could hear me.
I thought you'd begin
to manifest clearly,
but there I go speaking too much.
And there goes the last sacred song that I'll ever touch.
Don't run away.
Turn to your hometown.
Curl up and stay.
Swim with your legs tied.
Just please don't die on me.
Please don't die on me.
Leave a light on,
just please don't die on me.
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5. |
Children in Churches
02:27
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You little rose petal puzzle piece
hanging perfectly aligned
with all the $14.99
little picture frames
and cellophane-wrapped indecision,
next to Made-in-China's little
'Home is Where the Heart is" sign.
When you fuck
and you fuck up
and you settle down,
And you drink
until your nerves amplify
honest sounds,
And when you're on your knees
swallowing Jesus
and honey's bees,
Does it taste
like compromise?
(Hollow faces stare)
Little bird in a a garden, are you happy with your life?
Little fragment of sunlight, is there passion in your life?
(Every night the woman hurries by and glances. In her eyes, a dead-end daughter coughs in flames, and silent fire answers the question:
Son, I'll never die, just wait and see.)
If you feel a heartbeat, let me know.
(I am more alive than you'll ever be.)
If you feel a heartbeat, let me know.
(I am beauty clawing at the seams.)
If you feel a heartbeat let me know.
(I am filled with horrors you've never seen.)
If you feel a heartbeat let me know.
(I am the crimson fog of a broken dream.)
If you feel a heartbeat
let me know.
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6. |
Enredadera
02:06
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When we're born we've got blood on our hands,
but at the least the blood has a taste,
it lets us know we're not dead,
Though death is nothing but words,
and they get caught in the wind
and tossed around above the earth.
Your god is a cowardly bitch.
It's lonely and desperate,
make it beg just to exist.
My god lives buried in me.
It's not much different than yours,
except I won't let it free.
I don't need a heaven;
I have faith in every second.
In the end
I'll be empty
and naked
and blind.
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