1. |
Anastasia
03:27
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I used to think the labyrinth would take me,
as it's done to so many many times before,
but now I see my civilization
not built a finish line,
but found within its core
And every corner is a pleasant face,
half-lit red and orange in the dawn,
but I know I’ll stick around this one a little too long:
Anastasia
Her hands are covered in all this shiny dust
It falls into my cuts sometimes, but I’ll stay tough
Sometimes when I’m waiting outside on the side of the street
I feel like the pavement’s crumbling beneath my feet
I mean what I say, but I don’t say what I mean
How can we “see each other” if I can’t be seen?
I see that that’s no way to be,
but only when Anastasia seems to want to be with me,
with Anastasia
You’re my keystone, Anastasia, you’re my all,
but when I lean, are you just part of the wall?
You could reciprocate and lean on me,
I won’t pretend to know what you need, and you say
you need to go floating in space,
all celestial at a lightyear pace
Sometimes I still look up at the sky and awe
at Anastasia.
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2. |
Deer Spray
02:08
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Rabbits on the walls
training wheels and wiffle balls
French rose stairs and wooden closets
were the only things to break our falls
Molly was Sailor's and
fences made neighbors
When storms swept down our little gun
Our Lady answered all our prayers
Hit the guardrail with the rocks to scare the deer away
All my shovels are covered in snake blood and fear anyway
If you could pull the chord away that would be great
Stay off the lines, text me goodnight, and for God's sake, stand up straight.
Since when did being 6 feet tall seem somehow bigger on the wall?
Just shut it right, hit it three times, and you can really see it all
These cul-de-sacs and dead end roads they never felt so free but
sometimes it’s like the International Space Station’s flying over me
Attic mouses and
manikin houses
don't scare us anymore
we’ve bought the glue and we know both the spouses
We love our children so
please drive slow
But if the sun burned down our neighbor’s house
would we have been the only ones to know
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3. |
Juvenilia
02:33
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I live in a tower, I’m 20 years old
They say my house is full of ghosts,
but is it really my house if a really old ghost
has lived here since before I was born?
I’m a detective renegade cop
I don’t take off cause the crime don’t stop,
so I'll never stop, I'll never stop,
retrograde cop, lemonade pop
All this will be juvenilia
and I am setting up to fail
You hear my every single word
but still don’t understand me well
I’ve heard this dialogue before,
I thought I put this on the shelf
Is it just history repeating,
or do I repeat myself?
Stop, I remember this talk
this is the prelude to the second act drop
Where can we stop, where can we stop?
I wanna get off, I wanna get off
This time can we end things well?
We don’t have to fight, I’ll never tell
but this was a dream, but the kind of dream
where everything is a pixelated scene
All this will be juvenilia
and I am setting up to fail
You hear my every single word
but still don’t understand me well
I’ve heard this dialogue before
Should I just jump out of the frame
Is it just history repeating,
or do I mess up the same?
Do I bother to say “remember me”
as the cardboard buildings
collapse in a heap
Your glass eyes weather into sand
You hear “take my hand,”
but that’s just somebody impersonating me again
All this will be juvenilia
and I am setting up to fail
You hear my every single word
and still don’t understand me well
Is this history repeating,
or do I repeat myself?
Would you say if I repeat myself?
Would you say if I repeat myself?
I like in a tower, I’m 20 years old
They say my house is full of ghosts
but they're just the ghosts of the ways I’ve been before
I am a ghost of the ways I was before
Detective renegade cop
investigating the things that I’ve said wrong
Just a gatorade cop, a retrograde,
Gatorade cop, lemonade, stop
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4. |
All My Friends
02:51
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All my friends are flakes
I’m sitting in a bowl of sugared milk,
waiting for the rest of the party to get here
before we lose our reservation, I go
fresh from the box into the weekend
I’ve got plans for the fifth of next year
Why do I hang with people who can’t
even be bothered to text me?
All my friends are flakes
I’m under the backyard tent alone
having the last of all the snacks I brought for
six to seven people
And the rain slaps down onto the plastic
I’ve only had this tent for as long as
I’ve known you and all of the others,
local folk with better things to do
All my friends are flakes
Ever since my good friends moved
I’ve been going out less every weekend
staying in and watching cable news
I’ve been losing vitamin D on the couch of a dark room
watching other people lose health care
I’ve been sleeping past 3pm
and Losing track of the days since I’ve seen my real
Friends not flakes, over the ocean,
over mountains, way up the highway,
Flakes are meeting outside the rite-aid,
I’ll get there as soon as they all leave
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5. |
Deer of Bergen
03:56
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Two figures dance across the street, as white as ghosts
under the shade of trees torn down years ago
Wandering up the avenue, where cars careen around the turn,
looking for a grove they know,
a lesson hard to learn
For albino deer in Bergen
on a county highway curb
It was never even their intention to move out to the burbs
They know where they’re going: some emerald field in South Jersey,
but they often change directions, they second-guess their journey
His body hit the windshield like an asteroid in space
A stag the brown of summer fell, a pale one took his place
who all the drivers, terrorized, will stop and let pass on
The grandly-antlered poltergeist, a woodsy old man with a safety vest on
The albino deer of bergen cross the street beside the lake
They didn’t bring their passes but they pass between the gates
The fauns all hit the beach and play some tag along the shore
The parents take their walk and wonder what the fence is for
A doe beneath the power lines
thinks of the home she's missed
They’d meet up at the edge of town,
but the edge does not exist
There’s a reservation about 15 miles west,
but there’s no way she could know that,
and south’s her greatest guess
An albino deer in Bergen,
reclining on my lawn,
watching the trees wondering when she should move on
Her coat as white as a piece of the moon that fell to Earth
Her eyes recall the time when crying wouldn’t hurt
An albino deer in Bergen
disappears between the trees,
a final verdant vestige of the place this used to be
Like a line of hairs along a busy person’s face
Tomorrow, clean shaven,
gone without a trace
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6. |
Mary Carter
04:39
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Ask me all your questions,
then roll my eyes
When they stop moving i say,
"TRY AGAIN NEXT TIME"
I'm the "Psycho-Slate" of humans,
I'm written in chalk
So close my lid and open up
my mystery box
She plays her trade,
I'm the modern
Welcome to the '40's, Mary Carter
Could you look a little harder?
Come and look a little harder
Pick me up and dust me off
$5.99
I want to be your magic 8 ball,
at least, most of the time
You shook me for your answers,
and that was okay
So come and call your pockets baby
and fire away
I'm going off to war now,
come and find me
I said I'm
going off to war now,
come and find me
Or you could take the long drive all the way
to Cincinnati
She plays her trade,
I'm the martyr
Welcome to the future, Mary Carter
If i stand here and I scream a little harder
Could you hear me?
Could you hear me, Mary Carter?
I said
"Oh I want to be your martyr"
Look inside of me,
inside of me,
inside of me
Here I stand, a man
alone, I know
Can you hear me, Mary Carter?
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7. |
Asbestine
03:26
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Lights on, locked doors
Crying on different floors
Blue tiling, cake crumbs
on hot hands with a cut thumb
She’s sleeping facedown
with her anthem in the background
Low-volume but a riot
to somebody suffering in the quiet
And every wall is shiny clean
Beneath it all, it’s caked with things
asbestine
Know the right words, but say the wrong things
Head hurts, throat stings
And the house shakes as the clash turns
to a red fist on the plaster
So asbestine,
smoke beneath your sleeves
Nothing ever means to be asbestine,
but how can you expect to be clean
residing in the asbestine?
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8. |
Wishful Thinking
03:08
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Non-deceiving regretfulness
That creeping feeling that it's finally come to this
Out on the pavement one too many times
You'd think the weather'd finally force me to mind
I wrapped a scarf around the crack in your facade
When it returned all tattered, should I not have thought it odd?
This disease of doubt
is rotting me from the inside out
Tell me your real name, sing me the song of your people
I miss the waiting for something I couldn't have dreamed of
I've been staring right into the face of evil, please distract me
Non-deceiving forgetfulness
Can't you remember the last time we talked through this?
We talked in circles one too many times
and yet, somehow, I can't bring myself to mind
If I keep telling myself that I can't drown,
then maybe we'll stop sinking
I can't help myself but falling back into these lonely days
of wishful thinking
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9. |
4am Philosophy
03:51
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Your 4am philosophy is broken,
your apology is lost
All your notes in the snow back home
It's 4am and it's happening again,
and every cricket is a false key change
A wind howling through the den
is blowing everything away
Your heart beats slower when you’re sprinting,
throat clearer when you’re sick
Pounding your fists sore on the side of something
you know you missed the mark but you don’t know the mark you missed
There’s nothing left of today,
the only solace in your dreams
All of your castles washed away
You might as well go back to sleep
It's 4am and it’s happening again,
the footsteps of the enemy
And outside a gale-force wind
is ripping out a front yard tree
Your heart beats slower when you’re sprinting,
throat clearer when you’re sick
Pounding your fists sore on the side of something.
Under house arrest but you don’t know the house you’re in
Your 4am philosophy is broken
your apology is lost
All your notes, in the snow back home
There’s nothing left of today,
the only solace in your dreams
All of your castles washed away
You might as well go back to sleep
Your 4am philosophy is broken,
you’re honestly lost
Take this line of ignoiology and close it,
your physiology’s the cost
And we've already lost a lot. I thought
this dumb philosophy was over
But it’s obviously not
All of hypnology is broken,
it’s honestly lost,
and we already lost a lot
There’s nothing left of today
the only solace in your dreams
All of your castles washed away
You might as well go back to sleep
Drop the 4am philosophy
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The 117s Gambier, Ohio
The 117s are a band from Kenyon College in Gambier, OH
Zack Eydenberg
Nick Navari
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