Tied up in knots
This cardboard box is getting stale
Reset my clock
Put my ego up for sale I’ve
Fake transition, then surrender
Exchange our legal tender
Chasing the new
Is it all I can do to grow?
So to speak, rip off the band-aid
But idioms are overkill and vague
And it’s not so hard to do
Everything is here to lose
It’s harder when you opt to snooze
Rip it up and start anew
It’s really not so hard to do
Track Name: Molt / Fuse / Divide
And when I trade phases, cages, pack it all away, don’t watch me need it.
Fake it, just enough to breathe till I unpack.
Resuming habits (vestiges of needs abandoned) and tracing faces on the dusty hood of consciousness.
Twisted, spineless, blistered in the din of countless wants.
Grasping, aimless, deaf to setting suns.
And I can feel my whining id mourning the skeletal remains of something true and nourishing for idle hands -- put it in the ground.
Every layer’s closer to the core of who I am and what I’ll be.
See it on my face: I’m molting now.
I’m shedding shells of former selves, ripe to cast aside.
But if we hadn’t fused together at all, I would be remiss to live without you by my side.
Wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.
Good thing I asked you to come with me and keep me on the ground.
Hold the cards eternally.
Don’t concede anything, to anyone.
To the tune of circumstance we collide with anyone between us and our agenda.
While we know enough to sympathize, it’s a yawn of an idea (not that I can see a better one).
We divide, and stay cellular in the name of our traditions.
We can limp along in spite of it, could you pass the mashed potatoes?
In all the sanctity of holy war we lost ourselves, as if anyone could have done something about it.
Didn’t know if it was wrong or right, we just know enough to doubt it.
But put a lock on the revolving door, and steel ourselves.
Live life in ambiguity; you can fake it ‘till you make it, and you’ve got a kid to coddle
Here’s a message in a bottle
Track Name: Abacus Rex
Keeping it even
Blending the seasons
Extending the weekend
Fit to be branded quality time
Stuck in the middle
Between lifeblood and life
As we look East (It’s all the same)
And strain to see (the fruits of labor)
Make believe (or hedge a bet that)
There will be a Talking Dog this time next year
We’re stacking the paper (Put it off)
We’ll get to it later (or pay the cost of doing biz)
It’s the same equation as I used in school
Snout in a muzzle
This isn’t a puzzle
There is no solution to reapply
Try as we might
To keep fires alight
I’ll never seed this Garden of Eden
I’m over the hump
Crippling distance between
Oceans divide the mean
In truth I doubt that I can toe the line
Collapsing arches lose support in time
It's meaningless to quantify the hidden cost of being creative
So I won’t
From one of the premiere labels of the Chinese underground, a fascinatingly confounding and surprisingly cohesive post-punk album that works in nearly every genre style. Bandcamp Album of the Day Nov 3, 2016