1. |
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Life’s easier when you care
heart aches for the hangovers in the air
cold morning smokes remind you of traveling friends
Hope theyre warm & sleep in.
I messed up so many good things
wonder if those good things ever miss me.
who could miss me?
but my momma and the lord
hope this run on sobriety takes hold
if not, hope you come across the holiest of smoke
hope you speak your final name
before we paddle dutch on the fiery lake
the shadows dont respond in this lonesome cave
its whispers till the final shovel in the grave
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2. |
what obedience costs
03:32
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we bomb more civilians than we save
all women and children are pawns in play
we clear another board, cia installs a king
killing the will of the people for a corporate sting
eggs in the head of each dead hero of the region
devil in the bank deals, masked capital, a lousy legion
millions of demons, ladder to mammon’s giest
Shredded by the exponential mouth, vertical bite
destroy foreign governments then offer them loans
we own the growth and the tomes in their home
define the word, control the symbol set
forget the natural rights in each self hating head
liberation is violence, mothering the paternal gun
cops and the military can be the only armed ones
Suck on the cold metal, eat the fascist boot
It asks for nothing, but yr dreams and yr roots
Adopt the symbols, the hammer from the clouds
Ditch the unknown for the essentialized and proud
under control now. too loud for an honest sound.
Miming the grace lost when the soul is acted out
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3. |
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TOOK MY GRANNY. PUT DOWN MY PA.
JAMMED MY UNCLES ALWAYS RUNNING FROM THE LAW,
MADE A HOLE IN MY GRANNIES BACK,
POISONED BY A BUDGET AND A SCHEDULE HACK.
MELTED MY FRIENDS TEETH: HIS HALF-MEASURE DREAMS;
& THE LEVITY OF A SOUTHERN SPRING BREEZE
WHO CAN COMPLAIN? GOT PHONES & ENDLESS SCREENS VERTICAL CULTURE, SIMULATING ANSWERS TO ANYTHING
AND THEY DON'T MAKE SENSE. DOESN'T HAVE TO
SUPPLEMENTAL NOISE & WORKING BATHROOMS.
WE FLUSH OUR WASTE, BURN OUR PLASTIC
WRITHE AND CRY, SWEATING STRAIGHT INTO THE MATTRESS
NO ONE CAN LOVE, SO NO ONE CAN CARE
CHOOSE YOUR AVATAR, CHANGE THEIR HAIR
WORK IS PERMANENT, THE RENT IS CONSTANT
Bare ASS TO THE WALLS LIKE BLINDFOLDED HOSTAGES
SING OF GUNS AND A JESUS WITH AMMO
LESS LIKE JIMMY STEWART, MORE LIKE RAMBO.
THE BLOOD FILLS THE CUP AND THE CUP IS BROKE
IT TAKES MORE VIOLENCE TO OVERCOME THE CHOKE
THE CONSTANT SICKNESS, THE NEED TO MEDICATE
DRINK OUR FEARS AND BLAME OUR BRAINS
THERAPY DONT WORK WHEN THE ROACHES WONT PAY RENT WHATS POETRY TO THE DEBTORS WHO CANT AFFORD FRIENDS QUOTES FROM A BOOK YOU NEVER READ
VIRTUES YOU CLAIM, BUT AVOIDED TO LIVE
THE MYTH IS BETTER THAN THE GRACE WE FORGET
THAT'S THE BUZZ THAT NEVER HITS
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4. |
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got to cry like a saint
for the ceaseless pain of the world
the confusion, the certain doom,
the masks we bought in dying webstores
act out through material repression
the lies we live and got to defend
to act 14 till we die of shadow wounds
hating anyone with a stirring pen
Got to cry like a saint
Climb the cross and die in the heat
Built to hold the blades of daggers
Men I use to trust and feed
Got to cry like a saint
Hope my nephew sees better days
Hope my nieces don’t serve men
For shelter, protection, and the dull end of the blade
Waterlogged walls, schools like shooting galleries
Canned air for the rationed and bagged trees
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5. |
way too ugly to love
02:56
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I'm the ugly lover, we avoid photographs
I'm the ugly lover, matted mutt from the underclass
I’m the ugly lover, we avoid touch and eye contact
I’m the ugly lover, less like a lover more of a dumpster rat
I wish you’d see me
the way I see you.
I wish you’d treat me
the way I treat you.
Whispering love to a dry well
Still alone and thirsty as hell.
I’m the ugly lover.
Falling for a broken bottle in floral sundress
I’m the ugly lover,
Giving her ears for her fourth-in-line best
I’m the ugly lover,
Only calls when she’s drunk cruising drive through
I’m the ugly lover,
Disposable to the coven and easy to lose
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6. |
spare me the fantasia
04:32
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If the ladder dont exist, then half the world will quit
Best part of suckin’ boots is the sting of the kick
They have to believe to keep the belly burning souls
They shove us from the high rise while we’re still tying the rope
Babies reach for bottles, like their daddies reach for slim necks
It was never abt central power, a fixation to mask certain death
never abt buying power, just about denying permanent death
The terror build monuments to the boogiemen of their heads
Rather be lonely than burdened by your abuse
If I’m not a man, what the hell do I got to lose
forgot to show the reason any adult would begin to care
only show yr violent side to the proven lies you can spare
hard to admit, a material world supersedes our magick
there are walls, machines of death, and men called fascists
lost children drink on the edges of the poisoned streams
chemical brains committed to the source of their rotting teeth
millions of sources telling them the market demands all value
toughen up, the market’s rough, ants under heels, deeply in love
brains humming above a weedeater engine think their spitting socratic
Questions and solutions, circling in squares, liberal magick
Proven lies, proven lies, oh proven lies
The only ones who believe are the one you’re wrapping your legs around tonight
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7. |
radio rude
03:37
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I’m disappearing in the wind
Me and the tunes I love to spin
Sweet nothing, napping on my earlobes
Melodies closer than kin, oh the dreams I fell in
Falling apart to notes bluer than me
Selfish love, smoother than high end gin
I can still remember the cool, cool fizz
Use to drink myself to heaven’s culdesac
Lost the touch, it’s a long list
Living on your touch, less than a drip
You were great at keeping me cold and halfway out
I’m giving up, it’s the best way out
There’s nothing worth saving between us now
Stiffer than a wind chapped lip
Hanging on the bed of a truck, chiefing a spliff
There’s no beat to the open road
Remember the last word and last grin
Burnt out on, “how you been?”
“Oh, how you been?”
Ppl like you ain’t never interested anyway
Eyes like diamonds, glass like skin
Where does regret even begin
I reckon its some time after hearing your voice
Walking till I hear the crack in my shin
Leaving kentucky in a heavenly bliss
I’ll never be here again
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8. |
flat wonder
02:51
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Gotta be the dog who bites the man
You don’t want to be the dog with a slug in his head
There’s a way to live, then a way to survive
We live in the shadows of the most malicious lie
The darkest in the room, they control the temp
Landlord don’t fix much, but always collects the rent
Gotta be the dog who bites the man
You don’t want to be the dog with a slug in his head
Sour saint of the klonopin
Relax my dying body and let me drift
I know how they treat the poor and sick
I’m a dead man on a billing list
Gotta be the handcuffed man, chained to the sign
bruised knuckle of a officer of peace, sign of the times
There’s a way to get out, but you eat the ones you love
Fall for the gods and the promise of clean drugs
They’ll fix us all, after they get what they need
Settlers of peace, bombing and genocide on a floating lease
Gotta be the handcuffed man, chained to the sign
bruised knuckle of a officer of peace, sign of the times
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9. |
socratic yarble soup
03:15
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Hell of a choice/ Snake or the knife
Working man always on a hike
Voting the block or the blight
Hell of a choice/ Snake or the knife
Best we got going is the afterlife
Pay our taxes and lord, get right
Hell of a choice/ Snake or the knife
Go to work then curl up with a pipe
Driveway struttin’ all my life
Lost too much of me
To worry bout what the inner child thinks
Lay up lost in the south side with some green and a drink
Hell of a choice/ Snake or the knife
Hoping some love gets in the giest
Spirit of the times, get yours, get right.
Hell of choice/ Snake or the knife
Driveway strutting all my life
Swinging two step, gotta get right
Hell of a choice/ Snake or the knife
Swinging a flat blade through the night
Rain holding stars, tryin’ to get right
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10. |
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Lord I was born so ugly,
Managed to only land on my face
Covered with scummy tats and scars
Before every little body inked by the craze
Couldn’t get a job, sleeves on the preachers and praise
Worship bands look like teen with alimony
It’s deep flight game
Lord, the ugly got that god hand kick
Little bit of ill will, pork skin doll, and a thistle of whittled sticks
Got you in a bad spot for believing in the mystic risks
Holding water and claiming your commanding the mist
Lord, the streets are ugly. Ills of a system of man.
Dispossessed and despiritualized, we’re stripped of meaning and aim.
The future is dead and the past is in decadent flames
And nobody can remember when the last good idea came
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11. |
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oh we cry for the camera.
stare down the barrel of the lens
minor stars in line for the push and the give
become the symbol, eat the paint chips
head in the microwave. willing to warp everything.
for bottle caps and whole bean seeds
for a crop I can’t manage or got land to till and treat.
we paying for bombs and beating the local freaks
like oil in the fry, gets too hot when we can’t control the heat
everything under lock and key, keyholders and we
labor and the skill, material branch to the social tree
the trunk of the tribe and the culture we eat
built by the hands of the ghosts of all the lights
the souls that shine, the symbolic fight,
the hedonic plight, consume to shine
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12. |
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I don’t want to work like my granny did
paying for the mistakes of my scheming kids
2 am calls, knife wound and his life depends.
Blood loss and god’s funny gift.
time to ruminate on 900 years adrift.
Cousins stealing pills, steaming open checks addressed to me
The pig won’t take my checks anymore less I show my deed and id
Think of all the half-worked birthdays when no one did for me.
Peace; decades from reach
with more mouths to feed
Three warrants out for my first born
remember him singing hymns and learning his first piano chords
He don’t want to be a preacher no more.
He’s dead set on some violent ways. It’ll all end some day.
What I got to be to avoid being used
are there any lovers in the world telling the truth
Like a three dollar knife against a pistol that can’t shoot
Just my ugly face baptized by the bruise
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13. |
harry
02:58
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I don’t need nothing. I’m all good.
Got the baggage in the back seat and piss under the heated hood.
I’ll stare at wet stones till our petty god gives in.
There’s a gilded bull I can fight for a machismo fix.
The gutted lord will laugh, the dry fish will cry
The audience will shrink to the size of a lash on the lip of my eye
The camera will turn off. The sound man will stop
Giving it all and we got to start with the loss.
Harry, do you love me? Tv, are you my son?
Is the screen the thing or am I meat whispering to a bun?
In the jaws of meaner machines than I can pretend to be
I guess living ain’t worth that much to me
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14. |
loud smoke from the hip
04:14
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4 am, loud smoke in my lungs
God’s grace in my hands, liberation on my tongue
Only free when I create, free to move and speak
Don’t matter what you know if you can’t teach
Give it all away for free. Hold the thought like a leaf.
People come first, then come our dreams
When the body is low, the eyes shut and cycle is on
We’re cleaning the cache files to our repressed thoughts
If it don’t come from love, you can keep
Can’t upgrade designs I can’t feel or see
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15. |
born with big sin
05:04
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Good morning sinners. Good evening, you fiend.
We’re drilling the floors of heaven, without body or means.
Its a collective belief. The hot sleek glow of the knife.
It cuts through time. Symbols of culture and the geist.
Mist of a lexicon. Holy amber in the tree of life.
We’re all aiming for the womb, grave for the marble bite
Deny the body and a certain organic entropy.
Join the forming cloud of our conscious singularity
Bless me with the ache of another sunday morning rise
Biscuits and peace. Little green for my mind.
Good morning sinners. Good morning, my loves.
Hope we all tidy up. For our own sake’s enough.
Hope you stop drinking. Learn to give the way you dream.
Speak the way you act. Stop tossing milk for the cream.
It ain’t the people. Less the ppl are closer to the real you.
If you can change at any time, then whatchu got to lose
Bury that old cocoon. Use your hands and eyes for love.
I swear by the grace of different us. You will always be enough.
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16. |
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Flowers will grow from my rotting corpse
Like a melody springs from these cowboy chords
The american bombs strip me of my childhood flesh
Need me singing carols for the holidays, wishing them the best
Bulldozed my garden, white phosphorus for my fields
I guess we gotta smile more when the drone strikes maim and kill
Need a better attitude, abt all the bad weather blues
Even if the state is stirring the clouds, mixing in deeper hues
Green bud chimney behind my teeth
Moss on my esophagus, purple hairs on the leaf
In the digital forest, we collect like rain on the uneven floor
Spied on and lied on, we forget before a cough or the roar
Yes, we just need a feed. Magical speech. Radically clean.
Tell us who gets the stick, who gets the meat
Before the big black nothing comes, let me fall back in a dream
Tell us who gets the stick, who gets the meat
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17. |
spit hill
04:25
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sleepless for months, legs swollen like swamp meat
the monitor beep, hearts holding rhythm in 7/3
Somewhere inside, there's a me praying for my health
Somewhere far off, there's a final eternal rest
sick for months, cant breathe too deep
Holy hell, sacks of pain holding water behind my knees
Stuttering heart dancing to a pocketless lonesome
When you're this sick, there's no room to pretend
world dont care if you're sick
everything is transactional relationships
so no disciples or infinite love in the town square
We’d pay for a beheading and complain for a bigger bill
Dead stare at the ceiling, pulsing pain in the hip
Can’t even piss, dry urine clouds spitting from the lip
Somewhere outside, there’s weather rolling by
Somewhere near by, there’s rain dancing between the pines
Hurts to sit up, the bed’s sinking like a coffin
Can’t catch my breath, ribs creaking with caution
No breathe deeper than a stain on a rag
Like the drip in the drag and blood on the flag
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TS/AL collective Alabama
We're a collective that releases stuff from mostly alabama artists.
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