1. |
Stars of the 10-32
03:52
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Where are the waters of those long-gone days? The bright churning river, the floodplains, the rains? Nothing was so grave then could keep us away, keep us out of water. How in the shallow days we'd all line the banks, clouds high in the currents with prayers, sermons, thanks. Some of us were saved then and tapped on the head. Wonder out of water. Mirabilius profluens. But every time I wake now, I'm waking from the water. I'm dreaming it again and again. In my mind. In my care. Where were the preacher's kids and where was his boat? Found down at the spillway, nine feet below. All of us so brave then and no one to say: Keep them out of water. Why work so hard? Why tell me this now? Every time I wake, how I'm waking from the water. I'm waking from the water, I'm waking from the water. I don't mind. I don't care. And every time it rains now, I'm walking in the water. Walking in the water, I'm walking in the water. I don't mind. I won't care. Bells tolled, a service held, we stepped up to pray. Found both brothers lying with silk underhead. Even then it seemed the boys had something to say: Keep us out of water. Why look so hard? Why tell me this now? I fall; the river makes demands of me. So suddenly, so suddenly you were down in waves. Then silently, you were down and gone away from me. Where are the waters of those long-gone days? Here are the waters of those long-gone days. Beware of the waters of those long-gone days. They will try to wake you. I looked so hard. Why tell me this now? Because I'm walking in the walking in walking in the water. I'm walking in the walking in walking in walking in the water. I'm walking in the walking in the walking in walking in walking in the walking in the water.
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2. |
Monday Murders
03:11
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She saved the pictures from the Errand, how she wanted to be them. But as with everything, just earned a beating. Was it (tell me) was it can’t stand out, seventeen, anymore? Man, I tell you, I wanted to be there. Is it (tell me) is it seventeen, can’t stand up anymore? All the kids are in suits, every secret is mentioned. Every friend’s a recruit, any reason’s confession. All the barbs are removed, every handshake a tension. Every screenshot a noose, and it’s all I know. He dreamt the headlines, timed the trailers, drew out maps of the seating. But as with everything, he turned the meaning. Was it (tell me) was it couldn’t live in between anymore? Look, I told you I wanted to be there. All the claims are grouped and the whole thing's an action. Every child is proofed, every home an invention. All the cartoons are looped, every help is a session. Every leg’s being pulled, and it’s all I know. All I know. They made a fiction, made of victims, what they thought it should be. But all they wanted to say was hello hello hello hello hello. Every failing’s a truth, every season is wretched. All the pain is accrued, and the whole thing’s a lesson. All the prayer books in verse, every rhyme's repetition. But I can’t come to you, and it's all I know. It's all I know. All I know. All I know. And the house is on our street, it’s the dark one on the end, full of men in rolled-up sleeves, in their aprons, 3 a.m. Here’s the steeple, here the people, driving off each one a friend. But then Monday murders Sunday and it all begins again.
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3. |
Come and See
05:15
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There's a boy on the creekside, gaunt and bitten in the wing. He'd raise a short, deaf from shellfall, taking care. See the gore on his bootshine where he's singing in the reeds. He's borne the cold, bore it often. He's wading in. He never wanted to be anything more, he's always known these sins for reason. Beat the box and skip the crown. They fought the ground, they fought the ground. All the sighing tenderfoots, so many jars of Baal. What they'd seen in cosmoline, all justified and justifying. "Unto others..." scribed into their golden tomes from home. But he never wanted to be anything more, he's only known this bellum ritum. He's singing! I give you hard felt reliquary, I give you heartfelt cat o' nines. I give you something to love. I give you blood-drained television, I give you blood-stained son of mine. I give you something to love. Wasted time, he's wasted all the time. The forwards breech the line, he's waiting to fall. Porous, the northern forests, ever moving through. I beat the pall, recall it's all I do. I've raced these boys around the col'mbines, a lie that they never really wanted to follow, they never wanted to go this far. It's all I want to sing! Hey-yo, oh-no! Strike all the way! Strike! Oh-no, oh-no! It's your golden anniversary! O Eris, I show my sons around! O Ares, I show my boys around! I give you heartfelt reliquary, I give you pogroms genuine. I give you something to love. (I give 'em all, I give 'em names.) I give you blood-stained television, I give you all partition line. (I give 'em all, I give 'em fame.) I give you hard reigns and fall backs again. I give you something to love. (You all will sing again!) I give you bones, veins of blood, brains and okay okay okay okay.
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4. |
Noon Moon
04:42
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Are you sleeping, my brother? Coming down from the ups and the trade? Did you swing for your supper? Crawling down on all 4th Street again? I’m trying to tell you it isn’t worth going through dread, miles, or mud not to see that there’s a noon moon over you. But you won’t believe me, you won’t believe me anyway. You won’t believe me, you don’t believe a word I say. You wake and hit the stations, haunt the F line, a Strat in your hand. Meet the eyes of strangers, just a scowling space between other men. It was blue when you left and it’s blue again now. You’re all acedia, cottonmouth, Zithromax. You’re singing hey yey yey down in the underground. With every measure of more, you’re feeling less. Why? Hey— But you won’t believe me, you won’t believe me anyway. You won’t believe me, you don’t believe a single thing I say. Are you dreaming, my brother, of the snow on the ground in Coeur d’Alene? We didn’t let you belong here, and out here what you are is what you get. That was true when you left, but you’re through with that now. You don’t have to be what we said you’d be. Who were you when you left and who are you now? In every wicked way, you’re the same, you’re the same. Stage the Rage! But you won’t believe me, you don’t believe me anyway. You won’t believe me, you don’t believe a single thing I say. You won’t believe me. You don’t believe me. You won’t believe a single thing I say.
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5. |
Goliath Lumber Co.
03:31
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Say the day is coming around when all the sky will again work the same. Feel a place in the ground where the mounds of all the chips, teeth, and ashes can fade. And we never wasted water like that until you helped up this come-along town. We never had such a throng in the shacks until you sought out our timberlands, found the long boughs. We people wanted back-twisting fields. We didn’t know how to clear it away. So you manned us a saw to greenback the days, our jawbones wondering, thundering, plundering: We can stay! Say the day is coming around when all this land will again be lost in shade. Feel a place in the skull where the sounds of all the saw, ax, and mattocks remain. And we never wasted tears like that until you pulled out this come-along town. We never made such a throng in the sack until you pulled out the lumber and boughs. ('hio! 'hio!) We people had our back-twisting fields. We didn’t know what to what to say when you took back your saws, left a black burning tract. Our jawbones wondering, wondering, thundering what to say. We saw it now. Wish I could say I saw the coming of these days. From rot-timber ages, the leaves in green garlands fell, in green garlands fell.
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6. |
State Street, 3rd Floor
01:05
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7. |
Founders' Blues
02:54
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I run the roads 'cause I know best. Leave the highway for to get my rest. Sleeping o'er the meeting house and dream of who tastes best. I come to town and I know best. I greet the day on my two legs. Slide my arms inside these red and grey tails. Push the window open, find the reverend up and dressed. I fear the Lord, but I know best. I clean the floor and stay a day. (All laid out, all laid out.) Slip in your room, lay my hands on your frame (all laid out, all laid). Daughter come and die for me, protesting less and less. Close your eyes, I'll do the rest. Midnight comes and it's the best. (All laid out, all laid out.) Stare the stars at me, the moon to ingest, (all laid out, all laid). Leave the untold buried in a sack where no one guessed (all laid out, all laid out), and take the ride that runs the best. I'll take the ride that runs the best (all laid out, all laid). I'll take the ride that runs the best (all laid out, all laid). I take the ride that runs the best.
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8. |
Roaring Spring
03:31
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“Can You Sing or Play Old-Time Music?”
O recordize me. I can feel my way up through the chords. Strum and roll my way o'er to you, buddy. I can peel my way up to the Lord. O recordize me. What a grin, Mr. Peer, to your face. As if there's no one but Him you'd praise. O recordize me! Evening coming soon. This night will follow you through your dreams into tomorrow. To harmonize you. Finalize you. Make you lean on that man behind you. O recognize me! (It's a wax master.) I walked a hundred degrees, Bristol City, to please you with a song for you and your horn. Now recordize me! Oh oh. Take your prize then. Memorize it. Vinylize it. Mm mm. It will feel its way up your stairs to your room on the square, it will take its time. You're not gonna walk through this town anymore. Leave your roar and your springs on the floor. Got rid of you. Got rid of you. Got rid of you.
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9. |
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In an early April, the year the fire caught the sky and burned its underbelly black for fourteen years until the feat of human grace had washed away. We thought we'd build a tunnel up to find (a way out up there). On onion paper we drew up all the plans. Our names in charcoaled ledgers aside the vaults now wept inside. And we were heroes, but the fields were getting dimmer. We were only twenty-young when the ides had come and suffering had just begun, when they put our hands to the reins. They went underground in burnished boxes and never laid the line. Where's it end? We gave 'em forewarned deference. We were only twenty-young and the ides had come and suffering had just begun, when they put our hands to the reins. Hey man, prime the overload now. Lay him down. Fourteen years until the sons of all our sons had another plan. The twine in our hands wrapped around, found, bound sixty-five and seventy airmen. The forest is burned all the way (mine now) to the other side. Now. Hey hey hey. (We rode 'em down, twice. Laid 'em out to dry in the sun. You read about it? Their eyes were open.) We were only twenty-young and the ides had come and suffering had (sixteen days now) just begun, when they put our hands to the only (sixteen days awake now) twenty-young when the ides had come and suffering had just begun to draw the line (sixteen days), put our hands to the reins. Draw the line. Drop the line. Drop the line, sentimental sons.
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10. |
Robert Pruett
03:23
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Did you run with a gun up in Vidor? What'd you steal, where'd it go, what'd it pay for? Was it fun to be young in an ordinary body filled with night? And the dog, hackles up, in the mirror did they teach him to want what he sees there? Up at five, high at nine, in the Northshore pines, o Robert, don't you cry. You cannot see, but you hear the storms blowing in a ways, blowing out a ways. And will the sun come through? There was love, as it was, in the corners. All the parties the law can abide. You were buzzed and afraid, but the way he played, the way she sang goodnight. You cannot see, but you fear the storms, rolling in a ways, rolling out for days. Until they come for you. You cannot be, but you feel the boy that you should have been driven out again. They're coming now, now, now, they're singing Robert. On all the dirtpile porno buckshot Sega days, with all the trailer kids on Cloverleaf parades, you were a torn-down boy, so kind and usual, beautiful. Again, you're told that you cannot stay, you cannot stay. You cannot be, but you feel the man that you could have been, they'll kill all of him. They're coming now, now, now, now, now, they're singing, o, they're screaming Robert.
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11. |
Deseret
03:11
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You said you'd drive to Eckert and call from there. Everything that goes, aside; your laws and keys, behind. Love, the last thing that you said to me: Let's try. And through the rain it came like a holy day. It sped to the hour, to the ground, where you turned out (that time, that place). The arroyo lowland miles got overwhelmed. It spread like a deseret out. Would you calm down? Wasted, worn, you drove alone through Kane, San Juan, and Grand. To a radio song you went in it. Lost the stations, lost the lines. And through the rain it came like a holy day. A buzz in your bed and I asked, would you come down (this time to stay)? Though every thought you had was falling down, you didn't say: Hey, man, this drive will never-- And through the rain it came, my holy day. Ever to shuffle around 'til it's all out. (This time, this place.) And though the rain it took my other name, I never thought: Hey, man, this sky would ever--
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12. |
Ides and Etcetera
04:42
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In sleep, all the oracles crowd in too closely around me, too loudly. Their calving and goring, ten-magnitude roaring, they clarify all while they drown me. How did it come to be so late? How did you come to delay? There will be no better dreams, they say. How did you think this could wait? People say count nothing your own--count it all souvenirs of the loans you won't pay down in time--each a pundit, a fever turning mean. It feels good, it feels good conceding nothing. But it's time to go, and it's time to fall awake, man. It's time to go, time to fall awake. All in line to go. And it's time to fall awake, while there's time time time. What will you do when the water's so wide you can't swim for you're sinking? (The will to fly hasn't gone.) What will you do when the water's so high, caught under your eaves, but still whistling lies? All in time for the flood, and in time for rains, and in time for the hundred days. Waves and their quarry! Time for the flood, and it's time for the gales, and it's time for the hundred days, hundred days. And Decius he overturned omens of the Romans, decked out in your blood, degraded, untrue, but in time for the flood, and in time for the waves. Don't go out this morning, all the senators we voted in voted us gone. I'll wait here for you. What will you do when the water's so wide? What will you do when the water's inside? And what will you do when the water's so high? Pulled under the wheel and your king sitting by? All in time for the flood, and in time for the graves, and in time for the hundred days. Memento mori! In time for the flood, and in time for the blame, and in time for the hundred days, hundred days.
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Fox Apts. California
New band, three mates. Debut album "Omen" out April 7th 2023, produced by Mitch Easter and Fox Apts., mastered by Greg Calbi. Press inquires to bill@teamclermont.com
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