1. |
The Absentee
03:08
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A ghost town with gothic eaves is how most see the city that I love. Where buildings climb to the sky next to urban prairie, vacant save for the vandals and the isolation.
The tape through the wheel and the capstan has also threaded through my last decade. It's what's kept me here through the turmoil, but now all that's collapsed like a punctured lung.
Hold steady, I'm on my way to you. If you still want me, I'm on my way to you.
My hometown is a gross example of how entitled, white, rich, racist pricks congregate so I've been turning to stone since I was a child and I've been ready to be further away.
Hold steady, I'm on my way to you. If you still want me, I'm on my way to you.
You've been so quiet and this, you know, is not how I want to live. This you know: I'm ready to no longer be the absentee.
The city you found is sinking underground and that sounds like a place for me, so I'll grind the gears of the rack and pinion all over this country's highways and streets.
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2. |
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You! You can put that in your dossier or you can tell me what's on my mind if it makes your case. You can tell me that I break the laws, the laws of lost love's aggression, by all I never do. You can run from me while I hide from you.
Time is pulling us through.
I can't imagine how I'd be the one without laying down all my ambition in regards to this. I can tell it as I see it, filtered through the darkest reaches of all I never do. You can run from me while I hide from you.
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3. |
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It stands to reason, after the shit went down, that the family should feel so much smaller without him around. And all the details I thought would bring me down were but fissures in the dam that seems is surely failing now.
The long lithe arms of hope drag me down the darkest halls. The long lithe arms of hope choke out all I know.
Talk by talk these thoughts arrive and it's all that I can engage to see his memory survives. So I'm lighting out at the expense that the man never saw me achieve even a little success.
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4. |
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I could break every rule. I could bend them into hooks and weapons so cruel until the sky opens and the day crawls in. Until the sky opens and the day crawls in with all the early morning birds. When all the early warning words pressure my frame like a bridge in the cards, you can hammer my name to a bench in the park as a sign of age and the cursive rules of entropy.
I could swaddle you in truth. I could usher in the violence and bring sirens so smooth until all trust does collapse and all we pretend is swept like broken glass back off the blacktop bend. Or I could curl up my tongue. My wretched little tongue.
Debt, trial: new laws for me
New laws for me: push, provide
Restraint, recoil: new laws for me
New laws for me break wide
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