1. |
Blossom Hell
03:00
|
|||
We don’t lock the doors anymore.
We take those tired little dreams from our heads at night.
We put them underneath the basement floor.
You don’t stand a chance.
Lullabies that’ll cut like a knife
when the neighbor rearranges how you sleep at night.
He doesn’t care.
He’ll take the words you thought you knew
and change them, singing something softly, slightly out of tune.
A new hit for the masses that can’t sit still.
woOoOOooOo!
He sings:
No light, but a shadow in the night hiding in a secret scream,
whispered beneath the living.
But what’s the meaning?
“There is none.”
If I had to write a lullaby for Blossom Hell,
I think the song would come out bittersweet.
And if I used this catchy melody,
I’m sure the words would find themselves,
and I’d sing it like this:
You’d better watch yer back.
You’d better lock yer doors.
You’d better bang yer head,
drink less, and sleep more.
Hold yer friends close.
Hold them close before they’re gone.
Now they’re gone.
And that’s it.
|
||||
2. |
No Money
03:05
|
|||
Dream defeat is what they speak.
They bet your money on perpetual sleep.
Death practice is where we all meet.
No money, just numb in congested streets.
Bury your interests – already beneath
Concrete and garbage – expired city
Empties your pockets – desires increase
You sleep…
No matter what you say, you lose.
Never mind the promises that you made
to your misled youth – like you, they own those too.
(They say:)
Quit that life and put your dream to bed.
Set fire to the bed – burn away and never wake again.
Inspired to expire – just waiting for the date.
Another number on some paper
Added to be subtracted and erased.
|
||||
3. |
Exile Party
04:03
|
|||
Before I was buried in the grave you dug for me,
I was buried beneath your bullshit, dishonesty, and fabricated history.
Go tell them all about it.
Manipulate their sympathy.
Talk about your wild-west stagnant dream – another stolen fantasy.
Yeah, your town is a sinking ship,
and unless we abandon it, I think we’re going down with it.
The more you think you know, the less you do.
Believe in words that hold no truth, and in time, they’ll come to ruin you, too.
So let’s just leave – let’s get away
before it swallows us whole or spits on us some more.
The city sounds spill out too loud anyway.
Anything worth hearing just gets drowned out drunkenly (by)
Empty threats from an equally empty heart.
Stalks and belittles – singing out violent words
through cigarette smoke in poorly lit bars.
Do you really feel safe hiding behind all of those lies?
Enjoy your kingdom. Enjoy the show.
Enjoy the followers behind the iPhone’s glow.
The event page reads “Exiled from this City.”
We’ll be sure to play our own after-party.
|
||||
4. |
Bomag
02:53
|
|||
Can I just quit?
Let the words slip and drip from my cracking lips like some clever line?
I quit, I quit, I fucking quit.
It’s been said a few times before.
Will I mean it this time?
I cannot quit.
No words slip and drip from my concrete lips.
It’s a sinking line.
I’m tied to one end – the other’s out of reach.
Recycling words spent years ago on pages left unread.
Some feelings better left for dead still tend to fall from broken heads.
I sink like this again and again.
Cursed like a fucking ghost
to haunt every word and every thought
I cannot leave behind.
|
Streaming and Download help
Chalmers recommends:
If you like Chalmers, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp