Sean
Found "Lawn Knives", and "End of Days" on youtube when he was still called Gobble Gobble. Bought this on vinyl about two years ago. Such an amazing find. One of my all time favorite albums.
Favorite track: Boring Horror.
keisha
Chaotic, approaching abrasive, glitched out and sparking, sparkling, lifted. It's frankly a little absurd how many times I've listened to this album. <3 u CJ
Favorite track: Decimate Everything.
Lawn Knives
we all cut close
and snip snip snip
i'm a woodland nymph
take off your clothes
and lie in the blades of grass
we all cut close
to our sunburn sideburns
crackle crackle flake
let no one know
End of Days
you have to do these things for yourself
i'm bound by stranger feelings
if voices tell me to act it out
i just won't bother listening
you have to do these things for yourself
i can't help much past raising
your booster seat on the pyre while you heave through your flute for me
you have to do these things for yourself
my mind is odd and fevered
if voices tell me to act it out
the question's "how or never?"
you have to do these things for yourself
the animals are watching
i feel the wind that comes when you say it's the end of days
Decimate Everything
break your records
burn your clothes
we will not grow old if we decimate everything
shave your haircut
smash your glasses
we will not grow old if this cold feeling passes
Morning Bath
i dont know how you work
i'd ask but you're not sure
i dont know how you look
in the mirror while heaving now
i dont know how you work
some fevers have a cure
your mouth's a gauzy blur
in the mirror while heaving now
did you ever look away
the cavity our workday made
if you have a cruel complaint
say it, just say it
did you ever look away
our office with our coffin laid
if you wish that things would change
say it, just say it
the cavity our habits made
Boring Horror
that's not what your body said
"i'm a dried out orchid stem"
that's not what your body said
over and over and over again
that's not what your body said
and you know its dialect
that's not what your body said
over and over and over again
ill be your boring horror
ill be your glorious mirror
i don't know how you look away
i'll be your boring horror
your glowing black chimera
ill hold this scaffold right in place
that's not what your body said
"i'm a castle carved in flesh"
that's not what your body said
over and over and over again
that's not what your body said
and you know its architect
that's not what your body said
over and over and over again
Wombstone
you were yourself while your flesh was nimble
but the brain has a way of stumbling into
corners and caverns
and red spattered patterns
till you
undo
you were yourself in your skin womb shaking
knit in varicose veins your whole body was naked
collapsed on the slab we're
awaiting the hour
when
you undo
like a baby barely awake
eyes as empty as urinal cakes
i figured maybe, anyway
empty is our merriment
Wrinklecarver
i don't want to live without it
i don't want to think about it
i don't want to feel my skin unlace its skates
i don't want to chew my tooth chips
i just want to boil the head till
its sparkling and see through like
we'd hoped we were
what a weary way we fall
we're as old as emeralds
Eat Sun, Son
never felt so warm but your womb is a mountaintop
never felt so warm till your veins emptied over me
you could not have known that the sky opens up with this
blessed wonder
my gingerly moving limbs
we're going under
the grass starts to dance and swim
never felt so warm till the flames of gehenna licked
never was forlorn that's the way that we operate
a demon and a god are now raging inside
of your sacred fever
your gingerly bound restraints
you're going under
split lips hiss the songs of saints
Alabaster Bodyworlds
i've seen my pale limbs mummified in infernal fridges
wax paper, foil and plastic wrap hold fast their hinges
i've seen my face in shadowed lines
in a six-foot pool of ashes
i've seen my kidney
huddled next to the spleen of a sixty year old priest
i've seen my veins strain to be seen in plastinate noblesse
das kapital continues on well after cell death
i've seen my hair coiled in the grass
of a ditch in Strathcona County
i've seen the oily underpass
where the third search party found me
so come back down...
we have graves
in the dirt
so come back down
so, no?
Early Birthday
shrouded in snow pale as the morning star
your little flesh scarf sewn by your belly's arms
your boiling brain and the stove of your art
bubbling over black on the shattered glass
we all have time! i doubt it
you'll be just fine! i doubt it
suspended in amber, surrounded
by the lives you never wanted but you lost
it's what it is
that's what it is
it's what it is
little membrane between the things we've been
shivering cold, upright and frightened dumb
the pulp and wet fruit slip as your fingers numb
no design in the rope just a shriek and a moan
disembodied prayers for a life alone
about
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