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1. |
Night Class
05:22
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Keep on showing up
Though I've heard enough
Feel I've something to say
Pray you'll meet me halfway
Gentle handshakes, please
These hands bag groceries
Eggs on top of the cans
Break at the smallest advance
Viscous, black gall
Last bus, last call
I make strange bedfriends with the neckbears worrying the edges off Conrad
I am free to think the best of my fellow man
As you've seen they drove a nail into each hand
15 of 20, send 'em along
15 of 20, send 'em along
15 of 20, send 'em along, send 'em along
God had limits
He subdvided the months into sevens of days
Arbitrary and strange
Me, I'm much the same
Saintly only in name
I'm forgiven, what has your religion of precision given you?
I am free to think the best of my fellow man
As you've seen they drove a nail into each hand
15 of 20, send 'em along
15 of 20, send 'em along
15 of 20, send 'em along, send 'em along
Words all amount
To an anchor on a ship that's run aground
Words on a page
I recount them but all syllables they bleed the same
So I'll scream and writhe
Obscene and lithe
I'll count the days
Keep the march of time at bay
Extend a hand to the awkwardest of men
I met his eye, he just walked past my horizon
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2. |
Bill Got Got
02:24
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Caught blocking the thoroughfare
It's a pitiless grind to create crime
Dot-matrix injunctions fill my day
Ask the boss for some time away
Caught riding with ten demerits
The true actions of a criminal mind
The ancient jacket of an aging parent
The economics of continual decline
I'm an organelle
Ask myself if this is worth my health
The steady diet of kids on welfare
Results, results, results, results
I'm an organ donor
The perfect job for solipsistic loners
I'm day-tripping with the freaks and stoners saying
Results, results, results, results
Hard numbers that justify the strategy
Hard years of living inside this tragedy
They don't define me
Old Bills talk shop about the days when they got got at traffic stops
Old Bills look misty-eyed at the days when the verb was dignified
I'm an organelle
Ask myself if this is worth my health
The steady diet of kids on welfare
Results, results, results, results
I'm an organ donor
The perfect job for solipsistic loners
I'm day-tripping with the freaks and stoners saying
Results
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3. |
Flattener
04:38
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4. |
Cistern Chapel
02:53
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Stand up straight, son, you're gonna get a kink in your neck
Slight hunch of the upper back it's called kyphosis
I can see you've been playing one-too-many video games
See women see a schlub like you comin' and their legs snap shut
So I'll tell you what I'm gonna do:
I'm gonna make a man outta you
You're gonna clean your room, take a wife
Put down roots, save your life
I miss the man I believed I was
I'm just too wrong to agree
I need a symbol to tear me down
A quiet corner to grieve
I'm at the apex of want, and more,
I've got permission to leave
You seem like someone that I can adore
I cut your name in my sleeve
Were you at my lecture on Tuesday?
Yeah, we went over the whole Foucaultian thing
How one man's disease is another's salvation
It's not really the competing beehive of ideologies it's made out to be and
While I haven't read the whole thing
I think I know what's in it
I miss the man I believed I was
I'm just too wrong to agree
I need a symbol to tear me down
A quiet corner to grieve
I'm at the apex of want, and more,
I've got permission to leave
You seem like someone that I can adore
I cut your name in my sleeve
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5. |
Cloth
05:27
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Sister lend me your alms
I'm a pauper with a prince's charms
I'm the fingers of Our Father's arms
In the long night
The rhythmic morphology
A clinical oncology
I'll metastasize they'll cut at the knee
You'll be alright
You'll survive
Be survived
Rosewater-scented cloth
Your rosary your mother's cross
Your cleanliness is close to a godliness
Wash your hands the Abbess demands you fresh
This village is an acrid cloud
Issuing acid 'pon the painted shroud
It burns the lacquer off of what is allowed
It's a sad sight
So send for the cut flowers
That buff the room in their final hours
We'll fill the urns with their burnt embers
Bone-dry and pulverized
Rosewater-scented cloth
Your rosary your mother's cross
Your cleanliness is close to a godliness
Don't wash your hands I want you to spread my mess
I make you all that you are
You're a vagrant in my home
And I'm the hearthstone
All rise and sing the lines
Tell your neighbour that you love the very sight of him
I make you all that you are
You're a vagrant in my home
And I'm the hearthstone
All rise and sing the lines
Tell your neighbour that you love the very sight of him
Tell your neighbour that you love him
Tell your neighbour that you love him
Tell your neighbour that there's nothing behind your eyes
Tell your neighbour that you love him
Tell your neighbour that you love him
Tell your neighbour that there's nothing to compromise
I make you all that you are
You're a vagrant in my home
And I'm the hearthstone
All rise and sing the lines
Tell your neighbour that there's nothing to compromise
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6. |
Simulation Fire
04:31
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Thin, severed
Gloam-weathered
No thing ever
Lasts forever
Revisioned
But no better
Scales, feathers
Skin, whatever
Take the dog for a walk
It’s not far
Obligatory spin round the block
There’s something satisfying knowing where a lesser being pees
It’s never the tree, always the pole, never the ...
The marking of place is
Denotation of time and space
It’s so mammalian
A permanence that’s written in sand
Not hard for the birds, a breeze for the plants to command
Something seems off I...
Something of the sky isn’t right
It’s all pink and purple, swirling
Menace in the clouds unfurling
Thin, severed
Gloam-weathered
No thing ever
Lasts forever
Revisioned
But no better
Scales, feathers
Skin, whatever
Make it feel real
Something you can feel
Something you can hold and say
I’m glad I knew this
Make it feel soft
A wilderness untouched
A type of computation we’re
Surprised to notice
I feel a sense of pride in my creation
Though it says nothing of myself
Of course the vanity of nations
Is how they extrapolate the self
And though a billion milling simulacrums
Are just nails in jars on shelves
I can’t bear the thought of one more sunrise
Lighting fabric realms
So I’ll set fire to the simulation (x8)
Make it feel real
Something you can feel
Something you can hold and say
I’m glad I knew this
Make it feel soft
A wilderness untouched
A type of computation we’re
Surprised to notice
Thin, severed
Gloam-weathered
No thing ever
Lasts forever
Revisioned
But no better
Scales, feathers
Skin, whatever
It’s time they knew this
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Aversions Vancouver, British Columbia
A quixotic mix of American post-punk and '80s post-hardcore, Aversions are eastvan work-a-days trying to live the axiom of art interlacing life. Muscular riffing, left-turn basslines and sledgehammer drumming provide the substrate for vocalist Sam Coll's acidic takes on topics big and small. ... more
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