1. |
Dirty Tricks
06:01
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This makes me nervous—I'm twisting my hair. The tattletales below the surface are running out of air. I can't stop crying and I'm trying not to lie but it's logical to smother flames when you're starting to fry.
What is the point of all this yearning if I'm not learning anything at all?
You're asking me questions I can't comprehend, like, how could you leave your keys all night in the back door again and why don't we make love anymore? I can't stop crying but I've got things to do today. Maybe we could talk another time when I have something to say.
What is the point of all this yearning if I'm not learning anything or going anywhere at all. I just keep ending up here where I started but there's no starting over.
There's dirty laundry on the basement floor, dirty dishes in the sink. Here's a dirty trick the angels played with the little lives that turned into big lies and I can't stop crying—it's making me angry—in between sighing and waving goodbye to all that is leaving
What is the point of all this yearning if I'm not learning anything at all?
I don't remember the things that I forgot, like, how to find a salamander or fly to Paris in a cardboard box, still, I can't stop crying, there's a river in my stare. Maybe if I set a boat in this water it'll take me somewhere or anywhere at all—anywhere.
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2. |
Beast
03:01
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Words are spilling through my lips—like, broken teeth and poker chips.
Gather up the bits and pieces, cast my lot and call the beast in.
In the corner of my eye I can see what just arrived. This one snarls and stinks and growls but I'll mount it anyhow.
Ride on its back bit in its mouth. Take what I need I am not proud. This is the way these are the means. Angels descend dressing like thieves.
I have learned a thing or two—how to pound the nail and turn the screw.
I'll hang on until I'm dead won't eat this beast but I'll get fed.
Ride on its back bit in its mouth. Take what I need I am not proud. This is way these are the means. Angels descend dressing like thieves. (again...)
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3. |
Killing the Rabbit
03:28
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Here is a penny from my thoughts. I toss it out and watch it drop. You pick it up and flip it high. A copper question in the sky.
You read me like I am a noun, but I'm a verb—I get around. I've left my tracks upon your pages, ripping the paper on the edges.
I'm in the habit of killing the rabbit.
I am a creature of the night and there is hunger in my flight. Seeing you run I give you chase but you're too bitter for my taste. Of all the monsters up your sleeve, I am the very least of these. You like the parts of me the best that cannot speak. You thought I didn't know how that makes you weak.
I'm in the habit of killing the rabbit.
I've made a habit—of killing the rabbit.
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4. |
Braver
05:19
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Way up here the air is thin caring for the fragile sins. Your worship is poison, the arrow is wet and flying. All that glitters isn't bold, did my armor have you fooled? I thought you knew, valor is reserved for the holy.
I'm not a savior. I didn't know the way. I didn't think you'd follow me then, be my hideaway. I'm braver without you.
You said you loved me all along but, love is weak when fear is strong. When hearts turn to stone, where they fall is where they lay. All the guises strip away while idols crash, return to clay. Living is messy and loving is not absolution.
I'm not your savior. I didn't know the way. Why did you have to swallow me and throw the rest away?
I'm braver without you. Braver.
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5. |
Lord
03:14
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There's a chair that sits on top of a hill all the people stop and stare. On the seat it bakes Little Debbie Cakes, into the crowd they spill. And we say, Lord! And he say, Come! And we say, No! We don't talk to strangers.
Heads up children! Do you hear what I hear? Bells of bullshit ringing in my ears.
Well this is that and what is that is this, you always talk to me quick. It's a gun in the mouth like a popsicle stick, sweetness has a loaded lick. And we say, Lord! And he say, Come! And we say, No! We don't talk to strangers.
Heads up children! Do you hear what I hear? Bells of bullshit ringing in my ears.
Now the sheet that sleeps on a dead mans eyes is a whiter shade of upscale. Tell the gardner to hose down the blood on the lawn, my-my, it's a lovely day. And we say, Lord! And he say, Come! And we say, No! We don't talk to strangers, we don't talk to strangers.
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6. |
Walking Stick
05:34
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Bloated on the empty retching in the neck, I see the preying mantis kneeling down as bone and flesh. Leaning on the landscape, moving is the trick. I am the walking stick.
Dragging what loving brings, sagging in her skin. All that I had to give made her this prison. Leaning on the landscape, moving is the trick. I am the walking stick.
Stepping on bodies, no reason no rhyme. Forward is backward, I bury my child. Leaning on the landscape, moving is the trick. I am the walking stick.
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7. |
The Dog
03:48
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The more I see the less I know, the more I grieve the less there is to cling to. If I hang on one second more I'll sacrifice the hands that do the giving. I won't beg anymore, hang from the rafters or pound on the floor. Roll me over—throw me a bone.
The more I hear there's less to say, the hungrier I am the emptier my plate. Angels die in devil's graves, beating broken wings against an empty face. I won't beg anymore, hang from the rafters or pound on the floor. Roll me over—throw me a bone.
The more I wait the less I care to smooth the wrinkled sheet or tame the tangled hair. All is gone and nothing's lost, between the here and there, devoted as the dog.
I won't beg anymore, hang from the rafters or pound on the floor. I'll master all the tricks I've never done before—throw me a bone.
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8. |
Blood and Water
03:09
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Your tongue is in my mouth trying to say what you wanna hear. Your spoon between my teeth full of the things you thought I would eat. The portions you bring to the table will not sustain the frail, will not supply the able, cannot repair what fails again and again.
Blood is thicker than water. Water is easy to swallow.
You wanna own my hunger, you feign to know the taste that I crave, no one can fill my wonder, kitchens will counter your race from the grave.
Blood is thicker than water. Water is easy to swallow.
Easy to swallow.
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9. |
Mary Nail
04:40
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Very scary Mary Nail creeps into her bed, murmuring her litanies, pounding on her chest.
Very wary Mary pales, who has come to call? Scrawling her epiphanies further down the hall.
Tarry Mary—wait awhile, hands clenched at your sides. Strangling the urgency straining to collide.
Harikari Mary rails up against her wall. Brick and mortar parodies laughing as they fall.
History is hammering, memory stammering—
Mary buries fairytales slipping from a chain. A talisman of fantasies, promises in vain.
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10. |
Broken Cup
06:56
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by Wendy Lewis
Lewis : voices
Pete Linman : bass
Terry Eason : guitar
Dave King : drumkit
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11. |
Will Not
02:15
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All the crying in the world, all the crying in the world, all the crying in the world will not—will not—will not change my mind.
All the waiting in the world, all the waiting in the world, all the waiting in the world will not—will not—will not change my mind.
All the pleading in the world, all the pleading in the world, all the pleading in the world will not—will not—will not change my mind.
All the raging, all the raging in the world, all the raging in the world (all the crying all the waiting all the pleading all the raging) will not change my mind.
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wendy lewis / bands Minneapolis, Minnesota
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