Abacus Rex

by Talking Dog

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Tied up in knots This cardboard box is getting stale Reset my clock Put my ego up for sale I’ve Had enough Fake transition, then surrender Exchange our legal tender Chasing the new Is it all I can do to grow? Who knows 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
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
Abacus Rex 05:51
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 Atrophied muscles 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


released December 31, 2019

Noah Ruede - Guitar, vocals
Dan Schwartz - Drums
Sean Kane - Bass
Matt Philbrick - Guitar

Recorded at The Seaside Lounge in Brooklyn, NY
Engineered by Charles Mueller
Mixed by Charles Mueller
Mastered by Mike Tierney


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Talking Dog Brooklyn, New York

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