1. |
Most Boats Float (alt)
02:58
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You herd the unsound when we’re listening.
Shake up a dust cloud, the sun, the rain, the soil, the seed.
And just a whisper, if we open an ear,
Reveals the nature of the fold, the flock, the bringing in.
You turned out a light, and sat in a dark room.
Yielded a dim desire, got up and set the deck on fire.
So gather the hands and drift 20 ft. up
Above the shade on a sunless sea.
No cords above. No props beneath.
No camera tricks. No chroma key.
And yeah, most boats float with half their hull below,
Displacing equal loads, and casting no shadows.
You herd the unsound when we’re listening,
And name the worst of us the enemies of loneliness.
In the moments when we’ve taken it on,
We’ll give your ghost a crown and trust you’ll turn these stones to dust.
No cords above. No props beneath.
No camera tricks. No chroma key.
And yeah, most boats float, but not like this they don’t.
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2. |
Cocoon Boy
02:22
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Last few years you had been good for you.
Cocoon Boy forgive me, but what about insides out your open mouth?
Your scripted themes in sync with words distinct.
It's genetic mess. Makes sense, I guess.
Forgive me Cocoon Boy.
What about spilling insides out your open mouth?
Sing through awkward interludes.
Play a long and stupid tune.
Have your demons dance on cue.
Oh! Tired of it.
The last few years were good, mind you.
It hasn't changed a bit albeit lessons learned x2.
We sleep into the afternoons. Awake a shape we never knew.
Break the spell and kill the news.
Mothers teach, daughters renew.
Fathers speak and sons undo.
Spirit, teach us to commune.
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3. |
Not It
02:32
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You squirm.
Don't move, cause we're not done.
Don't move just yet, but you squirm on.
Commune without the need to shape you.
A devil close as blood covers us, and blood is all we have.
So, umm... thanks a lot for pulling at me screaming,
For comfort when I'm bleeding and pale,
Cause blood is all we have.
It's constant conflict:
What's my part?
When's my time to speak?
When is it time for wind to blow?
And the more life digs in, the more I let go.
Fingers wide--not it.
Not it!
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4. |
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Soon joints on jackets are see-through,
Shoes pleather, and weather your joints doom.
Bloom is teeth fabrique, cocoon sheathed too soon.
At best: bleak. At least wreck a few feasts?
Mood black from a crap attitude hack.
Loose tracks and the lack of a tune whack.
Tombs stacked to the back of a room, packed.
Moon-zoomed blanks in to black introduce Taps.
I was taught to tap dance atop death's hands,
But my fingers are pressed beneath a pair of pants.
And it's within my genes to make this old dirge last,
And time just has a way of killing hopes last laugh.
So if I find my head attached to some piece of machinery
With folks checking my vitals like some folks tend do to me...
Bathing is time and time I could have wasted
Getting clever on a million mines.
Waiving my mind, sometimes I could have tasted,
But I never wanted senses to rise.
Were you there when I fell on hard wood
Or stared at leaves in God's gutters and cried?
Skinless cadavers pick bones with skeletons for forever,
And ghosts will never get in,
Cause bones can't hear past the skin of their teeth.
And if you point that at me I will lash out with stones,
Maybe shove a stick in the spokes you know.
This tape got stretched. It won’t reach the end.
Oh no.
Bathing is time and time I could have wasted
Getting clever on a million mines.
Waiving my mind, sometimes I could have tasted,
But I never wanted senses to rise.
Were you there when I fell on hard wood
Or stared at leaves in God's gutters and cried?
So if I'm feeling lazy when Jesus comes back to bust me,
I'll hit the boss key.
Or could be bending, maybe, with schemes built to bless me,
I'll hit the boss key.
I’ll know my memory’s fading when I forget the ending.
Save me.
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5. |
We Beneath Us
04:50
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We beneath us.
Are we tested on how we spent our time?
All your history decays on a VHS
At your parents' house in a three bridge city.
We cite jazz and blues, bikes, and never shoes.
We held lies and truth, we beneath us.
We beneath us.
We beneath us.
Are we tested?
Are we spent and dry?
Parts and pieces together make a sound
Like some empty shell or the stillest ocean.
We wore out our clothes to hail the thrift store close.
Friends rolled cigarettes and quit always not just yet.
All creative flecks were copied and saved for web.
So the past remains remains beneath us.
Remains beneath us.
Time buries bones.
Wind brings them home.
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6. |
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7. |
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8. |
John Perry - Wet Dog
02:07
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9. |
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10. |
John Perry - Man Down
04:19
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11. |
Most Boats Float
03:12
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You herd the unsound when we’re listening.
Shake up a dust cloud, the sun, the rain, the soil, the seed.
And just a whisper, if we open an ear,
Reveals the nature of the fold, the flock, the bringing in.
You turned out a light, and sat in a dark room.
Yielded a dim desire, got up and set the deck on fire.
So gather the hands and drift 20 ft. up
Above the shade on a sunless sea.
No cords above. No props beneath.
No camera tricks. No chroma key.
And yeah, most boats float with half their hull below,
Displacing equal loads, and casting no shadows.
You herd the unsound when we’re listening,
And name the worst of us the enemies of loneliness.
In the moments when we’ve taken it on,
We’ll give your ghost a crown and trust you’ll turn these stones to dust.
No cords above. No props beneath.
No camera tricks. No chroma key.
And yeah, most boats float, but not like this they don’t.
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12. |
Soon
04:03
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|
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Soon joints on jackets are see-through,
Shoes pleather, and weather your joints doom.
Bloom is teeth fabrique, cocoon sheathed too soon.
At best: bleak. At least wreck a few feasts?
Mood black from a crap attitude hack.
Loose tracks and the lack of a tune whack.
Tombs stacked to the back of a room, packed.
Moon-zoomed blanks in to black introduce Taps.
I was taught to tap dance atop death's hands,
But my fingers are pressed beneath a pair of pants.
And it's within my genes to make this old dirge last,
And time just has a way of killing hopes last laugh.
So if I find my head attached to some piece of machinery
With folks checking my vitals like some folks tend do to me...
Bathing is time and time I could have wasted
Getting clever on a million mines.
Waiving my mind, sometimes I could have tasted,
But I never wanted senses to rise.
Were you there when I fell on hard wood
Or stared at leaves in God's gutters and cried?
Skinless cadavers pick bones with skeletons for forever,
And ghosts will never get in,
Cause bones can't hear past the skin of their teeth.
And if you point that at me I will lash out with stones,
Maybe shove a stick in the spokes you know.
This tape got stretched. It won’t reach the end.
Oh no.
Bathing is time and time I could have wasted
Getting clever on a million mines.
Waiving my mind, sometimes I could have tasted,
But I never wanted senses to rise.
Were you there when I fell on hard wood
Or stared at leaves in God's gutters and cried?
So if I'm feeling lazy when Jesus comes back to bust me,
I'll hit the boss key.
Or could be bending, maybe, with schemes built to bless me,
I'll hit the boss key.
I’ll know my memory’s fading when I forget the ending.
Save me.
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