1. |
Bundle Up!
03:12
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Feet drag against the cracks in the ground
Never knew this much could happen in a year
They say it seems you've slimmed down,
Or is it just your organs trying to disappear?
It's a blank stare at a blanker page
How can the words feel right when there's so much you can't say?
It's an idle hand counting towards a day
you know isn't coming and that you lack the heart to face.
It's a hesitation to place any certain blame.
Just know that I don't hate you. I can't hate you.
Your casualties seem so calculated, but so it seems to go.
And lord knows I'd kill for a sense of closure, and lord knows I'm not alone.
So why bother building on foundations so destined to crumble?
And when all that's left is rubble, who'll have the strength to clean it up?
No, I never promised you certainty. Simply listening ears, shoulders shrugged, and earnest apologies.
And the song plays on, but who's still singing?
I hear no sustain in coerced goodbyes,
especially when composure must oblige.
So bundle up, kid. You're gonna be fine.
So help me god, you better be fine.
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2. |
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You said that I've grown distant. I said, "well you're getting close."
But can we please skip the formalities? We both know what's troubling you the most.
Sorry for the inconvenience.
I form numbly, and you'll ask me how I enjoy the feeling.
I'll say nothing and defer to your answers.
You'll keep your rhythm, I'll keep my time.
I'll keep it up to your discretion what I find.
And you'll say it's what feels best.
And I'm hard-pressed to say that you don't know how to turn me gone. Present my absence as a passing phase. Resent to hear that I'm not wrong
in my most dreaded motivations.
So I call your bluff now that I know the rules we've been playing by.
You say, "go on." I hesitate, but state my answer.
You'll keep your distance, I'll keep my head straight. My voice is low, but only for my throat's sake.
And you'll say it's for the best.
You never told me what you really meant when you spoke of pride.
Because this precedent you've set surely can't be right.
I see that you've grown distant, but the pattern still remains
in the bloodstains on your blank slates which surely state my case.
The writing's there, but will you read it?
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3. |
A Working Title
01:40
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You cut the lights and the brakeline, hindsight's 20/20.
If you knew then what you know now, you never would've bought in
on that junker in your rearview. Already 2 years old, it's so beneath you
like that childish Dookie tattoo in your mirror each morning.
You'll get it covered up one day.
Oh, the kids these days. If they had only been there
for when it really happened.
They'll refine their tastes and reserve their efforts
to filling their nostrils with thrills far more attractive.
If we could only be so fucking cool
we could shed our skins just like you
and contort our catharsis into something more en vogue.
They'll all swoon and herald you a saint for crumbs you've offered.
They'll treat you as priority and beg to be an option
for the set of keys you inherited before voiding out the lease.
This foreclosed lodge's floorboards creek beneath the weight of posturing
and your model nonchalance which screams, "DENY! DENY! DENY!"
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4. |
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I felt the rocks scrape underneath, I saw the friction tear a hole.
I swear I left that paddle somewhere.
I'm caught far too stubborn to do much else but float though the water's not too deep.
I sense the tension in this creek. The hunters failed and the wildlife competes. I've found no solace here, next to mother nature's frigid cheek
Oh right, my breathing and self-fulfilling "I forgot"s.
Amidst this prison I've resigned to, though I realize there's no guard.
I took the reasons why I've tried to task and faced the only worth I've found so far.
And I've read these scriptures. They read like fiction, they look like mirrors.
But that's not to suggest much familiarity than my current lot of substandard territory.
And I've birthed this place of a dire need to mold a garden from a cemetery.
You know I've tried pulling out the weeds, but premonitions of fatigue always for some self-fulfilling "I forgot".
And I'll falter fashionably as ever.
Pressed my fingernails into my palms to feel the unspent kinetic potential.
Some electric firing squad which heeds to my command
to signify renewed belief in unprecedented harmony between the tool and the hand.
But at least I can feel secure
in knowing there's no way this outweighs
six feet of dirt.
Rest assured that I'll rest peaceful,
but only when I'm done.
To be remembered young & beautiful is to only be remembered in part,
so I'll refuse to play along.
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pine overcoat Atlanta, Georgia
an artistic exercise in whatever i guess
pine overcoat recommends:
Tyler's emotive math-pop band.
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by Michael Cera Palin
Elliott's other band.
go to albumIf you like pine overcoat, you may also like:
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glad i finally bought this album!! great work guys <3
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ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS CAAAAALL MEEEEEE AND I'LL TAKE KENILWORTH AVENUE TO 193
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This outstanding compilation of bands from Indonesia puts a focus on atmospheric pop and rock music, with hooks 20-stories high.
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by you, me, and everyone we know
The songs on the latest from this Lancaster, PA group have the fire of punk rock and the angst of emo.
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