-
-
[Untitled] LP - YELLOW Vinyl
Record/Vinyl + Digital Album
[Untitled] Album on yellow vinyl with corresponding yellow LP labels and lyric booklet. Packaged in a high quality tip-on jacket with spot-gloss features. Yellow vinyl limited to 1500 copies. A very small amount available on Bandcamp, the rest will be available via Run For Cover Records.
Includes unlimited streaming of [Untitled]
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
Sold Out
-
[Untitled] CD
Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album
[Untitled] on CD format. Includes lyric booklet.
Includes unlimited streaming of [Untitled]
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
Sold Out
lyrics
Watchmen w/ their eyes closed, ransom and a scripture by the picture of your face,
messages the rhymes chose, blueprint for contrition in a cigarette case
Everybody knows, son.
everybody knows what you’ve done.
Everybody knows, son
everybody knows exactly what you’ve done.
Charles was alive then, towering like a mountain at the silver trumpet blast
William still alive till when our altars are all emptied of his offerings to the last
Everybody knows, son.
everybody knows just what you’ve done.
Everybody knows, son
and so again it goes you can’t end what you’ve begun
Surely as the sun early on the east side comes
before my sleepless eyes your features metamorphosize
Surely as the sun early on the east side comes
If only you had known how soon you’d be on your own,
how suddenly they’d cast the stone
When the mouths of praise and blame start to sound the same,
and you’ve asked they please not come back around
& yet they happen by, you can offer my reply:
“there’s tortoises all the way down.”
since the night you came dressed up in your righteous name
all you claim to see doesn’t mean a thing to me.
Surely as the sun early on the east side comes,
I know I’m not the only one
whose blindfold-and-a-scale-ship refused to sail
and yet failed since each search for solid ground
You sing to me at night as the moving finger writes
on tortoises all the way down
you think that glass of wine could cancel half a line?
but it won’t wash our words out this time
& I’m not the only one who’s got nowhere to run
cause everybody knows, son.
everybody knows just what you’ve done.
Everybody knows, son
everybody knows what you’ve done.
while all hiding inside our painting-of-a-house-hung-up-inside- that same-painted-house-which-ever-implies-another-painted-house-inside lives,
serpent-in-the-sky-lives!
servants-of-the-least-high!
most-tortoiseless lives!
would you meet me sometime soon, son, down by the riverside?
there’s room enough in my paradise,
my empty little mind
credits
license
all rights reserved