1. |
Here It Is
03:19
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Now, you are different and distant. I miss the old you: the you with teeth showing. the you that makes me cry on a stranger’s front steps, hood over my head and not ashamed but protective, lest they steal my tears away and give them to their dead.
chorus: i have not been exactly fair. i have expected things i could not myself provide. i was never violent with you but i seldom took your side.
it’ll never be like this again, but it very well might be this good in fact, i’m fairly certain of the fact. it’s time i slipped up my hood and move on in the rain. i have not been exactly fair. i have expected things i could not provide. i was never violent with you but i seldom took your side...
(chorus)
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2. |
Airport Gate
05:26
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An outburst of maniacal laughter from a gaggle of girls reminds Spesus he is too eager to please he’s not eager to learn. an outburst of manical laughter from a gaggle of giddy gals somehow is now the opening credit theme-song to a Cohen brothers comedy starring Spesus. and the audience is weeping tears of joy as a boy grows gonads over the course of a bag of peach rings and some pseudo-biblical teachings spoken through the high pass filter of a knowing smirk and a nagging sensation that ends up sounding like a quail’s chirp, that he doesn’t know as much as he used to about this particular work work work.
chorus: oh jesus christ please make me young again. make my hands smooth and my teeth sharp. will the beautiful girls (boys) love me when i’m old? oh no they won’t.
so now the human form begins to crumple back into a fetus, knowing more feeling less, having crazier dreams, if it dreams at all. the skull is a squash court with sweaty condensation coating its inner walls, two competitng hemispheres, and a bouncing ball. the body is a withering Rudbeckia, at one point therapeutic, beautiful beyond description, forcing witnesses to stop what they’re talking about and stare, drool gathering unconsciously in the corners of their greedy mouths, a thousand beady eyes like a spider on a nature show, pervy gawking spider, hairy and fat-abdomened. but that same body that once garnered envy and wonder, now crispy around the extremities, color faded and lackluster, litheness muddled but more capable of being
another’s lover. that’s the thing: it wouldn’t be life if youth and beauty wasn’t wasted on the young.
(chorus)
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3. |
Truce
04:58
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My body shakes with age it knows it hasn’t yet accrued thanks to a second-hand smoking gun and bird in hand totals two, but the bird is just a buzzard it’s nothing I wanted to come and roost. now the swan i once gazed upon is just a barren goose.
chorus: it’s not so bad to recall with fondness, rather than to be appalled at our current state.
an eager ear will hear its wishes into wave forms eyes will see fish form a hailstorm, jail-born babies make the best litigators, blanket my day with a soft and gentle pain inside my stomach, something lived there once and mow it’s gone away to crawl under a porch and die.
(chorus)
we will get over it and become a little less young and trusting, we will not pine when looking back on times when we could think of nothing clever to say, and ends of days will make us cry quietly to ourselves but in the morning our face is always dry. i wish to a god i don’t believe in that we could just call a truce (repeat)
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