1. |
NOTAFLOF
01:04
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take a picture and enter the chorus
my verses come off all restless and boorish
they're not yet clouded or rusted with age
or exhumed from moss like a son in the grave i'm
calling out to him
and he calls back to me
conversing in the lost light of verses spoke to me
so book the band if their songs are for soaring
and fall in love its not springtime for mourning
the zines and benefit shows that we throw
will matter someday to someone sitting in a parking lot
outside of a dbeat show
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2. |
Powerlines
03:10
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the casino sign says i deserve a win
i'm deserving of nothing special
i feel like im being watched every time i go outside
my roommate throws peanuts to the crows
hanging out / on power lines of living comfortably
pecking at rubber till it starts to leak
the sparks will send me down to the ground
tear the framing off the walls
another year another picture
i’m baffled by my own disguise
cause its so unfamiliar
hanging out / on power lines of living comfortably
pecking at rubber till it starts to leak
the sparks will send me down to the ground
till i learn not to sink a good thing
crawl until i learn that i’m not full of nothing
hanging out / on power lines of living comfortably
pecking at rubber till it starts to leak
the sparks will send me down to the ground (x2)
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3. |
Mount St. Helens
01:56
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i was a child on the east coast of failing to offer ourselves up to divine haze
consciousness gained in a paranoid summer
pulled the fight from my mouth into baptismal slumber
choking on ash as the leaves turn september
tighten your mask with particulate filter
choking on gas as the streets starts to smolder
tighten your mask with ov/ag filter
choking on ash as the leaves turn september
tighten your mask with ov/ag filter
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4. |
Curtain
04:24
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cry if you want to
i was waylaid in the afternoon
you were falling all over the floor, i was crying too
the neighbors tires blew up the asphalt
i was crying still
cold paragraphs always flirting
filled with cold seductive verse
falling victim to enclosures of acrid shit and forced exposure
i will not capitulate to them
wrapped in the warm embrace of a lover apparatchik
what can i offer you when i know who you’ve run from
a set shoulder, you’re pacing now
and love falls as a curtain
what can i offer you when i know who you’ve run from
a set shoulder, you’re pacing now
And love falls as a curtain
And love falls as a curtain
And love falls as a curtain
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5. |
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i was struck by the loss of a part of me
i was struck by the loss of a heart
i will not wither away
i’m starting to get better
stasis makes the abscess bigger
i will not wither away
wither away like you want me to
stick by my side and i’ll unstick you
to isolate myself from a life outside of distant hollow pastures
i heard what was meant
(constantly waiting for it)
admission of divine guilt
(drawer full of parking tickets)
i’ll never keep my back turned to you
i will not treat love as a parody
we’re not connected by any red strings you were cracked open to see
with a sliver of accountability
you’ve grown sullen and reactionary and weird
you were cracked open to see
spilling out all over severed ties
stick by my side and i’ll unstick you
to isolate myself from a life outside of distant hollow pastures
i heard what was said
(constantly waiting for it)
admission of divine guilt
(drawer full of parking tickets)
i’ll never keep my back turned to you (x2)
i’ll never walk with your own
i’ll never make out what’s mine
but in this sense i’ll water
remove the hollow pasture
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6. |
Whitman St. Blues
04:05
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you said
you were running out of time again
i said
pleasure isn't the only thing we seek
immolation in the marketplace
i always said i hoped we'd never get there
but no one ever responds to the place and time
it makes everything feel so useless
called off
the plan to do anything at all
i want to cry
bloodied broken and still thinks we're at an impasse
i believe
in chaining yrself to machines of overwhelming defeat
even though i hoped we'd never be there
though no one ever responds to the place and time
it makes everything feel less hopeless
comedys in red
here again
it wallows in my throat, sick to my stomach
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hidden driver Tacoma, Washington
tacoma indie rock.
hiddendrivertacoma@gmail.com
4/5 @ The Method (BLEAK OUTLOOK)
6/9 @ Tacoma Guitar Pop
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