1. |
Tripping Rituals
01:59
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I’m stuck on a highway and I can’t slow down.
No one’s going to stop him.
Now I’m at home base and I can’t lay down.
Someone’s going to notice.
I’m sorry if the feeling never left you.
I’m sorry if the face won’t turn away.
Like a leaf it will change.
Now I’m at the bus stop waiting for my dad
to come and pack my feelings for me.
My head felt light and weird,
I couldn’t quite explain the condition forced upon me.
I’m sorry if the feeling never left you.
I’m sorry if the face won’t turn away.
Like a leaf it will change.
ooh.
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2. |
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Augustine, your hair has never been that smooth or clean
and honestly that shit has never meant a thing to me.
If you’re ever inclined to carve my eyes out with a butter knife, well, I’ll be fine.
If you ever decide to rip my heart out with your perfect smile, well, I’ll be fine.
Oh Augustine, move to New Hampshire and marry me.
We’ll laugh and scream, we’ll get divorced before you’re twenty three.
If you’re ever inclined to carve my eyes out with a butter knife, well, I’ll be fine.
If you ever decided to rip my heart out with your perfect smile, well, I’ll be fine.
I’ll probably die but that’s all right.
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3. |
Pages
03:37
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I don’t think about my enemies much anymore.
I don’t color outside the lines, I always stay indoors.
I can’t put my finger on the pages you’re lying in.
It’s hard enough just to get a good look.
You don’t come by my window much anymore
with a coffee in your hand and a cigarette in the other one.
I can’t put my finger on the pages you’re lying in.
It’s hard enough just to get a good look.
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4. |
Carolina Void
03:33
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You go to work and I go back to bed.
You’re always pissed at all the rest I get.
I’ll write you a letter like I always did
and sign it with my awful penmanship.
The thought consumes me, oh, it always does.
I can’t escape - it’s in my bones and blood.
So I’ll throw myself in to the void again
and get sucked up in whatever is left.
I always wake from a dream with my arms in front of me holding on to a large cartoonish bomb and nothing ever goes wrong; it always goes right off and then I’m left with the clean up.
Carolina Void, you’re in my cough, you’re in my empty cup.
Carolina Void, you’re just like smoke, you’re in my chest and lungs.
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5. |
Lummox
02:31
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I’ve been wasting every hour of the day so far.
Hesitation, squandered chances that I’ve got.
The clumsy answers I made up:
The awkward words keep spilling out.
It keeps adding up.
All these feelings that I’ve got inside my stupid head.
There’s no drainage, blocking up and causing death.
I love and miss you, what’s the issue?
Please come home, I’m a failing drunk when I’m on my own.
I’ve got no luck.
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6. |
Busted Lip Language
02:05
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Everybody’s going home alone tonight.
No one’s going to call your phone,
they’re sick to death of dial tones.
And I won’t fight for you.
I’m sick of feeling black and blue inside for you.
Let’s go grab a couple planks of wood and go out back.
We’ll bash a bunch of apples and we’ll run the bases in our heads.
Things were better then.
Things were better when I had the chance to talk to you again.
Holly, I do believe it would be best.
‘Cause I regret the last thing I said to you.
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7. |
Awful Anxious
01:59
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It’ll only take a couple minutes to complete the crime scene investigation.
Drop the paper in the liquid and a fuzzy picture starts to surface.
I’m drowning out all of that stupid poison doubt.
I’m falling down - my boots are clumsy, I won’t blame myself.
It’ll only take a couple minutes ’til I get that feeling: awful anxious.
Like when I’m on the phone with you.
Guess I’ll never hear your voice again.
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8. |
The Kristin Fissure Way
02:14
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I used to hang with Kristin Fissure.
She’d give me shots of nicotine.
Casting shadows and jumping over.
And then one day she went away.
Getting sick of it is the Kristin Fissure way.
Now the drug store has my favorites:
Melon Maddog and AA’s.
Batteries to light my life up,
20/20 to fill my cup.
Getting sick of it is the Kristin Fissure way.
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9. |
Green
04:23
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"Can you hold the camera still?"
I’ve got a lot of film to use.
Daylight’s dying down and I can’t find you.
See no, hear no, speak no evil.
I’m so cold I want to leave you perfect on the ice.
You.
Perfect on the ice.
Purple creeping, water lilies rising in the painting’s finish.
The green fades away.
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Badfellows Manchester, New Hampshire
Manchester NH. Post-Folk-Indie-Rock.
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