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credits

released March 31, 2011

Recorded by Bruce Kirby at Boho Digitalia
Mixed and Mastered by Bruce Kirby and Treehouse
Artwork by Amanda Foste

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Artist Name Salt Lake City, Utah

A faux pa paroxysm of doggerel and sybaritic amour-propre. Just kiddin, we're just a band.

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Track Name: Weapons in Boxes
I have a grievance with this situation. While others struggle to keep their smiles; Oblivious to every single indication that circumstances will be altered in one day’s time. And each time another friend left town-Another loss to the list, Another name to miss dearly. And I remain with the rest of the townsfolk-you’re eating at me with a distracted appetite.

Please explain why I feel comfort when I’m trapped between devious walls. So adapted to abominations. There are secrets I’ve hidden in boxes. A corruption I can't understand, all determined by ambient factors. Lamplights above will decide, whether or not I decide.

Here’s the part where I plant the seed on your front lawn. And nourish it with sweat and blood and piss: my very own. If there’s a reason for this dissonance, it better be good because you’re always on my mind. Here’s the part where I steal the car and take it all south. I hope there’s a road where I forget.
Track Name: Last Leaf Falls
To fix a broken heart you’d have to replace times long gone. To comfort something lost and comfort broken thoughts. You can’t rewrite the pages of books already printed. Comfort of memories sometimes only comes in dreams. And my crutch is a memory that I can’t so easily return to. Buried six feet down in a chest with a missing key. My thoughts fill my heart with complete discomfort. It’s so hard to escape (when your) memories (are) tied by string. I’ve sent more messages in bottles than time has for reading and each one returned to sender, and wished on more stars than the dark let leak to and all attempts almost all lost. Sometimes I feel the past gets too much in the way of what you would want to do with your life, and all attempts almost all lost. Comforts all gone when the last leaf falls. Abuse at a young age helps foster feelings of loneliness and discomfort that seems to never be able to be erased and as much as you try to escape, your memories stick like scars, and comfort can wait.
Track Name: Escape
The end came and left, I was biting my nails. Waiting for progress, in a world already dead. Hoping for change and viewing the end. Sometimes my heart misses pulses and my dreams leave tied to sails.
Sometimes in some of my dreams I remind myself of a picture I’ve seen of a child floating away with her hand held tight to balloons. She floats to the sky ’til she’s gone. I grab those balloons at times I feel most alone and escape.
Track Name: Average Life Expectancy Should Be 16 Years
Chemical alteration has me thinking things such as, "I hate my adult brain and I can't conquer the conquering".
When I was a kid in another life, another world, it seems that everything was much brighter and euphoric.
I imagine three fingers tucked in, pause for air, pointer and thumb extended. Bang you're dead, so stop staring at me.
Track Name: Freedom as Laughter
Why does it seem like living is such a hard demand? Sometimes it feels as if we are dressed in reigns pulling the work carts. Nothing more than a number for the work force. Work is wage is war. Work to live, to die. Work to live, to breathe, to eat, to sleep, to dream of something better. Dream of something better. Work to buy, to cope, to forget our working lives. Something deep inside me aches for life with a deeper meaning. When I look to the sky and see clouds painting pictures I remember how the best things I have, I don’t own, and money can’t take. When I was younger I saw freedom as laughter, work makes me sometimes forget. When I was younger I saw laughter as freedom, work makes me sometimes forget. Work is time and time is money. Money can’t buy time.
Track Name: Processing...
Through a million microscopic pores this is how I'm exposed (insert unpleasant memory) this is how I atone.
I've been kissing seeds that descend from firmest heavens; holy shit my dreams are designed like steel swords; there's a man on your street shooting something that looks just like me.
I can't afford salvation, thread me something more like "destroy the bays" I can't keep up with concepts like longevity-- it's taxing on my body and mind. so expect some dependency soon. I can't keep up with concepts like longevity- it's taxing on my body and mind.
don’t forget projectile weapons don’t forget infatuations.
I keep missing messages sent from fiercest heavens, you could say I smell like regret and headaches, I walk into rooms and I waste my time as a wall. I fell like I wanted to fall, and I'll say that there's beauty in that, I'll call that authentic.
i can’t afford to wait this one out. like "count out the days." I can't keep up with concepts like longevity- it's taxing on my body and mind. so expect some dependency soon. I can't keep up with concepts like longevity- it's taxing on my body and mind.
How I atone
Broken: different states of an apologetic body; two bodies and a stream of subconscious, inspired by pianos doing nothing but tugging and attacking my has beens and would bes if it wasn't for all the should bes.
When and where from did this weakness come? it's washed up on these yellowed leaves. Sad sentences join, and directed. I'm sections of ripped and repaired. so it arrives and it writes on my limbs: these are illusions.
Track Name: Persist
Paint the day with improvidence. Let me see my own mistakes. Provide pencils and papers and pens. So I can plan for my escape. Break these habits abruptly. Cut the power to…(cut the power to!). A conclusion is reached: a new subject is needed. And the verbs are all the same: Eat, sleep, drink, work, release waste, dream and be deceived. Can one really call this living? And tell me what's worth living for? Drop the worth of space and time. Trying to drown out my rational being with a prayer and a smile if I can muster... this is circumstance. "What am I? I am what. This is circumstance and fuck it, it’s too hard, I give up."
Track Name: Refused or Bricks
We live in disgust and everything around us begs us to give in and fall apart. Defeat is anchors dropped by the word and sewn onto our hearts. Failure is placement we can’t choose but rips us from our birth. Sometimes I feel so useless in changing any of the world’s problems and our movement seems to not be going anywhere.But everything matters whether it seems significant. Borders are made with ability to break and bend. Your fist is a muscle the size of your heart. Everything they build we can help to tear apart. I refuse in believing that I can’t change a fucking thing. I refuse to let my actions to be ruled out by majority. Yeah, maybe it’s too late to actualize a world I’ve only seen in the dreams, but just because so much of what I love is fucked doesn’t mean that I can’t find to try.
Track Name: <Insert My Name Here> A Euphemism for Failure
Fourteen hours of becoming a seperate being who's void of conviction (and) feasting on "only"s. It feels like there's something I'm not telling myself. Avoiding the cold corners I'll just... sing until I'm warm. We are the masters of the art of not knowing what to say. We're wearing inch-thick helmets and feeling pretty safe. Bada, Bada, Bada x100. HERE! An exact replica of the sentiment that exists when i'm placed in your presence; notice the filth, and lack of color-- these are the things I don't need.
Track Name: Revolution is Complete Rotation
Honoring tradition despite all its flaws can help us become complacent, losing sight and focus. Obedience to culture while ignoring its weakness can make us become submissive to customs that oppress us.
Tradition is no excuse for failure to change.
If we can’t learn from our past we’ll never have the ability to change. We need to evaluate our actions and change them if need be. Revolution is complete rotation and can’t wait for our convenience. Freedom is a goal that’s completely worth achieving and my heart is set to reach it no matter how far it seems. We’re headed for extinction based on the lives we’re leading if we want liberation it means fucking retribution. Goals.
Track Name: Nine to Five
My surroundings beg me, "Abandon your dreams. Ahh, you want that. Order discounts on new uniforms. Clothes you live in, clothes you’ll die for". Goals we breathe in. Defeated we sigh, "Order".