1. |
The Good Things
02:47
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We are young, we are hopeful, and we buy things when we can,
and we're afraid...afraid of the future,
but we're in love with the past.
We think The Good Things never seem to last.
We have cars and friends, addictions, and rent checks.
and This time every year, I see new faces around here,
and I can't stop thinkin' 'bout the things they're gonna see...
but I'm too tired to care about the way things used to be,
and too worried to wonder where my choices will lead.
I spend half my time complaining, and the other half asleep,
or sitting quiet in my room with my TV
and at this time next year, I will not be living here,
but I can't fight feeling like I'm going home too soon.
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2. |
Kleenex
02:21
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3. |
To the Kidnappers
01:56
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"Sorry."
I'll never say it again unless it's true.
This house was built to crumble over you.
The brick and mortar store fronts, and the churches too.
The room is quiet, so I'm turning on the news.
The weekend wasted warriors are in bed,
nursing bad decisions, holding bottles, clutching heads.
There's someone in a basement probably wishing she was dead,
but the movies make you forget all of that.
"Oh, it's too nice to be inside," I heard her say,
"but the window does just fine when you're away."
and "Every minute feels like one step closer to the door,
and I don't want to live here anymore."
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4. |
My Neighbor's Hedges
02:27
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5. |
September 6, 1901
02:30
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On the day my city burns, I will sift through the ashes,
picking up small shards of glass as the National Guard convoy passes.
I will rise to my feet, and shift my gaze towards the street, and see you standing.
I grew up half an hour north from where Czolgosz shot McKinley.
September 6th, 1901. Two bullets to the belly.
and I am thankful for the mall erected in his name, and the statue (high school).
My great great grandfather worked hauling grain along the river.
Now this city hungers and I have nothing to give her,
save a few kind words, and a rare ocean bird (http://buffalonews.com/2013/10/09/buffalo-bird-watchers-abuzz-over-brown-booby/), and a song like this one.
On the day my city burns, I will stand out on the break water,
watching black smoke fill the air and cover up the slaughter,
and I will call out your name, but my voice won't sound the same,
and they won't hear me.
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6. |
City of Light
01:35
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There's something about this house that keeps me locked inside my mind where you could never hope to find me.
Cut out my eyes and gag me and bind me.
There's something about this town that holds me tighter than a bind between a best friend or a family.
It kicks my stomach and tries to choke me.
There's something about the state of New York that makes me feel like I have something to live for.
I have enough, but I guess I always want more.
Someday I'll be taller than the tree in my backyard. Someday I'll be dead and have a flaming sword to stand guard.
Bury me without a tie or a credit card.
There's something about this house that holds me tighter than a bind between a best friend or a family.
There's nothing else I'd rather have to slowly kill me.
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7. |
Chowder Pt. II
02:21
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the weather was still hot
and still nobody cares
but i’ll write this sequel anyways
i dragged my converse feet down Bay Street
and craned my neck to see
if my best friend dog was there to play with me
oh how careless he dug into the earth
while i felt about the same as that dirt
and i thought…
maybe it’s hopeless because i want it to be
his eyes began to look sad
as i got up to walk away
i had nowhere to go but i knew i couldn’t stay
and so i promised on the way home
i’d swing back down his street
because i need you more than you need me
oh how fearless he stood up on two legs
paws in hands, and snout to face
and pound for pound or backbone length
this shitty street is what you make
and i guess i too would dig a hole all day
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8. |
Great Lakes
02:37
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The great lakes.
The heartache.
The words I never have to say.
The cold heat.
The concrete.
The rusty coast explained away.
The snow drifts.
Chapped lips.
The storm that flooded half the basement.
Headlights.
Black ice.
Tires screeching on the pavement.
I hope to see you sometime soon,
silhouetted by the moon.
Fluorescent lighting, tile floors,
private clubs with open doors.
The sign reads
I'm only
100 miles from my hometown.
The billboards.
The hard words.
Dragging feet on dirty ground.
Street lights.
Black tights.
Fuck those who say you had it coming.
To burn out,
Guns Out.
I'm not alone, and I'm not running.
I know your heart beats with mine,
I feel you in my spine.
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9. |
Of Course
06:57
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Dead Languages recommends:
Zach played with these guys for a short time, and they are our friends and are great, and currently live in our old house, seen on the cover of Guns Out.
go to album
Sounds From Your Garage
by DJ Pajamas
Matt's solo rap project. Probably the best thing you'll hear today. He either played most instruments himself, or sampled some great songs. Dig it.
go to album
John Fealy is one of the best people you will ever have the pleasure to meet, and he records beautiful folk music. He loves bugs and Bob Dylan and living in the woods.
go to albumIf you like Dead Languages, you may also like:
Future Exhibit Goes Here
by Sleepyhead
Sleepyhead were a vastly underrated ’90s NY indie band. “Exhibit” combines two of their brilliant LPs into one collection.
go to album
Hooky-as-hell guitar pop from this Brooklyn artist that explores the ways people we have known live in us beyond death.
go to album
A Love That Leads To War
by Aquarian Blood
On their latest for the great Goner Records, Memphis group Aquarian Blood reinvent themselves, delivering a batch of spectral dark folk.
go to album
