1. |
||||
|
Mrs. Ives, I write to you
Wondering if we could make premieres
Of Mr. Ives’ greatest, greatest, greatest works of art
And would you reply
A steady distance to me
Or even a simple start
And how I got your reply
Steady chest unwavering
And you said you wanted to be kind
To those old fellows who played Mr. Ives
Back in 1908, or 1909
|
||||
2. |
Little Ghost
01:57
|
|||
|
I’m a little ghost inside my room
And I want to wake to something new
And I’ll go
Yeah, I’ll go out solo, wake up
I want to tell you everything about ghosts
I can’t tell you everything about ghosts
But I want to, so bad
Back in the day
I might have been a blacksmith
But I’m too cute for that
|
||||
3. |
Little Ghost in the City
02:51
|
|||
|
Skulking around the little city wonderland I called home
I find it hard, anonymous, it’s puzzling me as I roam
Tell me, train, do you still see me out there?
Flying past them
In the moonlight
Skyscraped windows
I am solid
I’m pallid, I’m squalid
In the moonlight
Past right, past life
I’ve died again tonight
It’s a mad world, but every time I’m out here, it’s bad enough
I might be dead, but I am more alive than some, it’s rough
I see their suits
They’re on the right track out here
Flying past them
In the moonlight
Skyscraped windows
I am solid
I’m pallid, I’m squalid
In the moonlight
Past right, past life
I’ve died again tonight
If I could, then I would
But I can’t go back, I can’t fight this time
Miss those days and I miss those nights
But I’m dead and you can’t see me
I wish everything was different
Can’t go back, my body’s in slime
You can see me at the morgue sometime
I’ll try to be there to see you
|
||||
4. |
Exit Standard Body
02:23
|
|||
|
Talking about different food things
Say nothing, barely describing, Get
Thinking about my life
Thinking about what’s right
I exit standard body
Thinking about my life
Think about what’s right
Oh, I am thinking of
I’m absurd, sulking in these arms
These thighs of mine, I try to get by
Slashing moonlight, standard body
Party, that is such a bad word
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
Story of a slaughter
People act as though the worst thing in the world
Is getting your guts laid out
Getting your teeth smashed and your hair pulled and your neck slit
But in actuality the worst thing in the world, in the universe, maybe
Is to feel and feel hard
To squirm, to be unable to let those receptors contort you
To never let you get comfort or peace
This is what we do every single day
No peace, no peace!
Who is at my right hand
When the pitcher makes the windup
And gets the groove on?
Who is at my left hand
When the gods channel their indignities?
Polish postal worker in 1825, city of Krakow
See the fees get cut in half
See his wages get cut in half
Goes home to the wife, goes home to the life
Goes home, home, home
This isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on!
You must be joking!
In all my years, I have never seen such repugnant indignities
As what you have described here in this brochure
In transient matters, we could have discussed a more suitable approach
But nothing so crawls through my skin
Like the proposal you have displayed before us!
Sir, I don’t want your money!
I don’t want your money!
You threaten me!
With your scales and timber hoofs
And lustful smiles, sir!
I don’t need your money
I can starve myself on my own, thank you very much
So please, if you could…
Could have been a voracious reader
Spent my time on Saturdays
Writing glorious lieder
From the pageless histories
Staring at very structured things
Wikipedia
Flashes in the rain
I can quote you Andrei V. on the screen
But if you met me at a bar
My knowledge would dispose of me
Flash down in the Seine
Scalliwags and ne'er-do-wells
Pain punishment points
I could write you Borges and it’s so gorgeous
But I sit and make nothing but forges
Lover’s child is gearing up for war
Midnight at hand, at 25
Making small talk in the cafe
Our love is alive, when you’re alive
See that man? He’s got a handkerchief
He can see smoke, way out of hand
Making small talk at the bar
And here comes a car, here’s the demand
Oh, it’s 3 AM, so call me again
Paranoia of being unemployed
Doomsday ahead, losing your friends
Could’ve been so tough, but no slackers abound
Life is around
Seriously, did you ever think
That no one likes work?
Is that what you’ve just found?
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
I’m lost in a million stars
Wondering who we are
But–you are everything
I ever dreamed of
Now, space and time collapse
Underhanded maps
And there is something out there I can’t think of
I’m stuck in a haze
I’m fighting off the sounds
And all the sights on my screen tonight
Everyone’s got a cause
And a dream to catch
And a love for the obscene
But do I need it, is it a part
Of my infatuation and desire?
Or can I resolve?
And here we go, the greatest part
Of the second date or third
I’m lost in a million stars
Wondering who we are
But–you are everything
I ever dreamed of
Now, space and time collapse
Underhanded maps
And—there is something out there
I can’t think of
But do I see it, do I feel
We need to be everything at once
All the time, all the space?
And here we go, the great
Horror film, you know, I’m no fan
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
In the Western Hemisphere
Global fears come on Fridays
In the tiny cubicles
Office space runs in old ways
Kobayashi paints a few
Then some more, and I’m sitting
On the other side of all
Ocean waves...and admitting…
In a million years or so
There won’t be silly authors
Who write in cliche codes
Down on all fours
And it’s scalding
How they treat you in the press
|
||||
8. |
Friend of Winter
05:17
|
|||
|
Like fireflies in the dark, I light up for my night
And when you get scared, I'll try to make it right
And it's 3 A.M., and I've probably should've gone to sleep by now
But i don't know how anymore
You just go in time
And try to figure it all out
Oh, and here it comes, here's the joy and the rush
And i thought there was neon in the distance
Flickering above the mist like some old castle
In cryptic fairy dust tales of woe and wonder
Oh, here's the cliff of thinking you will be thirty five
And so scared that you won't make it over that bridge alone
At home, there's no one else around
So you can make all your own sounds
And just go into the night
And let your body fly
In time, it's fine
Don't think about it now
It's in a pink flash
Everything's gonna be all right or something like that
Or else I'm going to be posting about it again
Swirls of secret serums
And pangs of golden auras
But if you come to the flat
We'll make you tea and we'll talk
On and on
And we'll say that people don't get together like this anymore
Because I don't know if they do
|
||||
9. |
Origin
01:22
|
|||
|
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord
And let perpetual light shine onto them
May they rest in peace, amen
May almighty God bless us with
Their peace and strength,
The Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit
Good morning, swinger
I’ve got something to tell you
Good morning, sunshine
I’ve got something to sell you
|
||||
10. |
||||
|
Oh, love of mine
Could you wait back in time?
We cannot shake our brethren now
Hold my hand, it’s all right
Out of time
Oh, Citadel
Sauganash promised us
We cannot bring our children now
Hold my hand, try to fight into time
Oh, far out into the city
The nightingale you thought was pretty
The shepherd of the union
The foxes in those intrusions
My blood and a little fortress
My blindness as an individualist
Oh, work for only eight hours
Oh, work for a little more power
When I think about your mother and your father, too
When I think about the baby that we hold onto
Oh, Sweet Karolyne
Sitting at home on the bed
Want to read about
Where your parents are tonight?
Oh, Sweet Karolyne
Oh, constable
I’d regret nothing more
Then, if you’d kill me on the spot
So I could save the lot
The love of mine
|
||||
blair ellair recommends:
Cosmic Folk Music from Bomb World
by Little Famine Carpet
you know it's hard getting imports from bomb world these days
go to album
every flower in my garden
by lilien rosarian
glitch for a _ world
go to album
ed
go to albumIf you like blair ellair, you may also like:
Tender bedroom pop from this artist from Spain that wrestles with emotions amidst whirring drum machines and moody keys.
go to album
This ambient pop album from Chute Records label head Jan the Man captures melancholy, contemplative moods simply, and without words.
go to album
Deliciously bleak synthwave from Germany with jagged, sawing lead lines, throbbing rhythms, & ghostly vocals.
go to album
