entartete Kunst

ghost of the graveyard (yucca)

I don’t belong here

where do I belong?

surely someones heart

surely someones arms

I don’t belong here

where’d it all go wrong?

them words you scream

all roll right off

I don’t belong here

surely no one does

they’ll just have to learn

i’ll just have to learn

i don’t belong here

plotting my escape

gotta find my way will i

find my way?

i don’t know what I’ll 

have to do

I know for damn sure

I won’t miss you

what’s to miss?

ain”t like there’s no fun

ain’t no love and I can 

find my own drugs

I don’t belong here

where do I belong?

surely someones heart

surely someones arms

I don’t belong here

where’d it all go wrong?

them words you scream

all roll right off

Cracked

we say we know and we are

charting our course by unforseen stars

we say this blows and we are so sure

so full of ourselves, we could captivate 

our dull glittered eyes until they roll 

away dust up on some great southern plain

let’s run, let’s run away

i’ll be your always, you be my escape

let’s run, let’s run away

there’s always tomorrow; we’ve spent our today

we say we know and we’ll be okay

our smiles may fade, but we won’t ever 

change scars may form; memory might stain

we may choke on our domesticated shame

speaking as we are only in cliche

one man’s hell is another man’s taste

let’s run, let’s run away

i’ll be your always, you be my escape

let’s run, let’s run away

there’s always tomorrow; we’ve spent our today

you can read what you wrote; it’ll be okay

no it won’t; the fuck you say

breath in the smoke, we gotta get away

make our escape before it’s too late

and we’ve spent too many of our days

wishing someone else would make the change

let’s run, let’s run away

i’ll be your always, you be my escape

let’s run, let’s run away

there’s always tomorrow; we’ve spent our today

you haven’t heard the last of my escapades

legends come down in waves, cascades

of bitter smoke and better dreams

tidings of better things we knew were 

waiting just around the way

if only we knew before we’d changed

let’s run, let’s run away

let’s run, let’s run away

I want to kill everybody in the world

8/28

Work on the album’s going but going slow. Half a dozen (+2) sketches so far and only the words created ahead of time. Although I truly didn’t expect to have the whole thing done in the time alotted, I did think I’d manage to track a surfeit of sketches. We’ll see, maybe I’ll have a creative burst.

Part of the problem’s the tascam i/o; it needs to be powercycled every 6-19 minutes, which takes the whole daw down. It’s great for making sure I backup but it interrupts my workflow and distracts me from better uses of my time. I’m not gonna lie, it makes me wish I was recording on tape.

Another side effect of the i/o problem is that as my frustration increases, the quality of my performance on subsequent takes decreases. Of course, this just makes me even more frustrated. Looping processes! Definitely an i/o issue.

The mesa sounds much better recorded than the crate; deeper, crunchier, much more the sound i desire.

Harlot

the harlot slept in the fire of daughters gone by clear of guilt and reason, treason’s in believing where never has gone. blues come up to meet the taint of home. break against- a wall of loss to coalesce. her brackish love, her brackish love is gone.

love by right, by fire. love by trial. love’s a consequence of conquest. a contagion spread as victim’s bled their demons and their souls for one more home. a love they bled against while the harlot, the harlot slept alone.

once we never dreamt lies in serpentine til time broke against pride. And who cares, who cares what’s left?

the harlot slept under shenendoah sky. blue hills cried tears for a princes eyes.

Lust is the eucharist to flesh. Forget what’s left. It’s the consequence of conquest; the casanova blest and bled over love dreamt dead. The wraithe writhes in flesh, right up against.

And who cares, who cares what’s left? It’s just the fucking consequence of dreams conspired in the inhalation of smoke for fire. breath held against the faint feint behind your chest, against the chance that desire could see light. but we’re tired. 

and who cares, who cares what’s left? anyway is all I dreamt against, just lullaby’s to kill the bright and the memory of eyes.

the harlot slept in the fire of daughters gone by; immolate our faith against the guilt of reason treason’s in believing where forever has gone. blues come up to meet the faint of home. break against- a wall of loss to coalesce. her brackish love, her brackish love is gone.

love by right, by fire. love by trial. love’s a consequence of conquest conspired in contagion spread; lust is eucharist to flesh. forget what’s left. the casanova blest and bled over love dreamt dead. the harlot writhes in flesh, right up against. the harlot slept alone under shenendoah sky, blue hills cried tears for a princes eyes- blest and bled.

circles

scarred hands, ragged cough. shaking in the morning. the sun eyes you blind, it’s a desolate suburb when you’re moving alone remembering thoughts that others forgot.

light up the cancer, stumble to sink. wash your hands, your face and your bad dream.

long sleeves, torn jeans. moptop for the blacktop. and dark circles for eyes.

doing ninety down the center, shift to the left. up into fifth, top out again. and riding the curves like they’re life’s bad news for what it’s done to you.

light up the cancer, behind mirrored shades, hiding eyes that dream of better days.

light up the cancer, ask her for her name. truth is, you’re still just wasting away.

ain’t no salvation to be found, no redemption to be won. you’re just there stuck under loves cruel sun. until in the distance some copper glimmers, with some sparkle and shine.

light up the cancer, ask her for her name. truth is, you’re still just wasting away. 

try and fight past it, try not to get clean. try and remember it’s all just a dream.

now she slides up close and shimmies off her jeans but she’s just there waiting still for you to lean. first kiss, first glance, it’s almost like you wanna breath a new day.

light up the cancer, push back the ghosts. Love comes again so off come the clothes.

scarred hands, ragged cough. spinning in the dark. the moon glares in your soul is thin this suburban hell has dredged you well of any conceit you had that you could be free.