1. |
Ceiling
02:22
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I am running my fingers
where the fracture has healed,
just a line of scar tissue
where the wound is concealed.
It’s been so long,
the day is done but it’s never gone.
I am fighting something off.
I can feel it in my chest like a cough,
and I feel something coming
on.
Yeah, what is the shot?
And how does it make you feel?
Does the aging distort
the frames in the reel?
You can fight the facts
but you can’t fight the feelings.
Your eyes open and vacant
staring up at the ceiling.
It’s been so long,
the day is done but it’s never gone.
I am fighting something off,
When you know that it’s right
but it still feels wrong,
and I can feel something coming on.
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2. |
Invisible Wall
03:27
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Low polygon, distorting features,
object impermanence, lost in the ether,
faces collapse, shifting my lens,
outside my body, stop making sense,
Am I an NPC in someone else's game?
One more invisible wall,
thrown up against the edge
I feel it’s power flex.
Soft locked inside what I can’t know
Invisible walls, a humble home.
If I could pull apart this simulation…
If I coudl walk through walls,
if I could fall through floors,
looking for an answer.
Am I an NPC in someone else's game?
Hanging by a pixel?
Or is there something else
that’s in between the frames,
like a decimal repeating?
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3. |
Era
02:12
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The mask falls off
and it cracks on the table,
exposing themselves
naked and shameless.
But why would they need it?
It never fit well anyway.
The tears of the guilty
quench the thirst of the few
This is a traumatic time
in a chaotic era.
And everyone you know
can’t look away
from the men on the screen,
you can’t look away
from the boot licked clean.
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4. |
Dimed
02:15
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Fall into place
forming a grid
like these bathroom tiles,
they say that’s all there is.
Head first into the grave
nothing is lost, nothing is saved.
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5. |
Bug Song
03:07
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Now I’m awake
and my sheets are drenched.
It is 4 AM
and my teeth are clenched.
Wind chimes and rain
wash over my brain,
for once it feels like
my mind is made.
So I count my breaths
all the way up to ten,
I let go of every muscle in my body
but still I feel so tense.
I wanna be like the thing that I hate:
One hundred legs patiently lying in wait.
The predator unconcerned by his prey,
he hasn’t moved in a couple days.
I am the cockroach hissing alone,
another panicked and twitching drone,
helpless and purposeless, writhing around,
can’t even get my fucking feet on the ground.
I’m the cicada who is screaming for help,
I am the yellow jacket stinging himself,
I am the bedbug bleeding the world dry,
I am the ant laboring till I die.
I wanna be like the thing that I hate:
one hundred legs patiently lying in wait,
the predator unconcerned by his prey
down in the corner of my practice space.
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6. |
Plank II
02:10
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You pass a law and people die.
You slash some funding and people die.
You tell a lie and people die.
You do nothing and people die.
How many dots have you got left to connect?
These people don’t deserve your respect.
Every bad faith pundit, every compliant resistor,
when they call for civility, what they mean is docility.
We are living in a death cult.
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7. |
Change Is Bad
01:14
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Change is bad!
If you don’t like what you have,
well then you can get out.
They’ll have you believe,
that change is what you want,
but I’m here to tell you:
Change is
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8. |
Wrong Question
02:13
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All of these comforts,
you can afford them.
And the worlds problems,
you can ignore them.
Buy this indulgence,
you do deserve it,
put on the mask,
and now you serve it.
Glossing over the lesson,
you couldn’t pay attention,
asking the wrong questions,
emotional abstention.
You didn’t need it,
but still you got it.
They’ll use your trauma
to sell you product.
You ate a whole pot brownie
and disappeared in the cushions
and you are smooth sailing.
You can’t compete with the noise
when they silence your voice
and so you scream into the pillow.
The end can’t come soon enough,
so until then it’s all comfort boom and bust
and you are smooth sailing.
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9. |
Plank I
03:04
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There’s not a thing that’s out of place.
A flat line, round face.
There’s nothing left that’s hear to see
but matrices of human grief.
Here find the creator, consumed by his work,
materials strip the subject of worth,
no look of discomfort, just a matter of fact,
an impersonal piece, don’t overreact.
How did he get up there? Strung up by a plank,
straight into his stomach, his face drawn a blank,
just hanging there lifeless, blood rush to the head,
not quite at the bottom, at least then he could rest.
Then he could rest. “It’s only progressed.”
We’re all caught in the web,
so sublime and ultimate.
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10. |
Anniversary
04:08
|
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Lay you at the peak,
cresting my growing pile
of mounting anniversaries,
the times we’ll never celebrate.
I wish I knew how to help.
And I’m running my tongue
over this old sore,
that sickly sting,
that I wish I could ignore.
And it starts to feel
like it’ll never heal.
And in your dreams
I’d still appear as a child,
unattended.
You couldn’t protect me.
I wish I knew how to hep
And I’m running my tongue
over this old sore,
that sickly sting,
that I wish I could ignore.
And it’s chipping away,
and it’s exposing the core
each and every day,
just a little bit more.
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11. |
Bells
02:53
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Like a potted plant
too big for its home,
I’ll take what I’m given,
but I won’t make any growth.
I am perfectly still
hurdling through time,
wilted on the sill
waiting for these bells to chime.
You should know better
with all that you’ve seen
no one ever thinks that
it’ll happen to me
Tried to stop the train,
but it wasn’t enough.
so I wrote all these songs,
but it wasn’t enough.
Scowling in my deathbed
because it wasn’t ever enough.
My growing neuroses,
my dwindling friends,
I can’t see the future,
but I know how it ends:
Days rushing by you
like leaves in the fall,
and while the world’s fading to black,
you couldn’t make time to call?
I should know better
who I’d turn into
no one ever thinks that
it’ll happen to you.
Held your frail hands,
but it wasn’t enough,
may as well stop the sun,
but it wasn’t enough.
Scowling at me in my dreams
because it wasn’t ever enough.
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Stuck Chicago, Illinois
linktr.ee/stuck.chi
stuckchi@gmail.com
booking: adam@firstdatetouring.com (US) diego.swampbooking@gmail.com (EU/UK)
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