1. |
Her Memoir
04:14
|
|||
|
She’s gonna write Her Memoir, gonna tell the stories of her life
Autobiographical, nobody around to ghostwrite
There’s a picture of her parents in her room, as a bride and as a groom, by her bed, by her head
She doesn’t like to sleep alone, needs a man she doesn’t love, but controls, he plays a role
She sees herself in her father’s eyes, with their tendencies to lie, and bend the truth, they bend the truth
But you will never feel alone again, if you act the way you always did
You will never have, a family, again
I can be the one, behind the loaded gun, I’ll be the one
Time will be the means, of my masterpiece, it’ll be the means
Abandoning the simple life, migrating to tourist sites, for good, I think you’ll stay for good
Resolute and ruthless, no remorse or truthfulness, it’s true, just doin’ what you do
She’s at home in agony, silent, but still clear to see she’s scared, but you don’t care
And I can’t run this house alone, I’m twenty-one years old, I am, not quite a man
But I will move back home for them, I will sacrifice being a kid
We will never be, a family, again
I can be the one, behind the loaded gun, I’ll be the one
Time will be the means, of my masterpiece, it’ll be the means
You will never feel alone again
|
||||
2. |
American Dream
03:19
|
|||
|
Wanna hear my voice on the radio
Wanna play my songs for people I don’t know
Wanna hear you scream
Wanna hear you cheer
Wanna throw up in a green room full of beer
Wanna be a stranger to my oldest friends
Wanna write an anthem for a teenage kid
Wanna play an arena for a million bucks
Wanna take some pills and get my stomach pumped
Wanna see my picture in a magazine
I wanna live a real life American Dream
Like a cyclone spinning in
I’ve been waiting all this time
Wanna shoot a pistol, maybe I’ll enlist
Wanna kill some bad guys and terrorists
Wanna fight the good fight, join the team, maybe catch a case of PTSD
Wanna give my life for another’s greed
Wanna help ‘em spin it on live TV
Wanna sell my skin for a soundbyte, for a line in a speech on election night
Wanna be a hero, hear your thanks
Wanna sleep on the street and be a pity case
Wanna see my name on a ticking screen
I wanna live a real life American Dream
Like a cyclone spinning in
I’ve been waiting all this time
|
||||
3. |
Questions & Answers
05:01
|
|||
|
My heart’s an eagle, yours is a dove
Patience is lethal, it only makes me numb
Captive and panicked, calm and revealed
Why do you question, all that I feel
Wine over dinner, like our parents used to do
Now we drink water, because it’s just me and you
Who says I’m bankrupt, on pleasure and on bliss
I can make myself happy, without having happiness
Why don’t you miss me, why when I cry
Questions have Answers, at least they do in my eyes
Why won’t you listen, to reason or rhyme
You can’t just leave me, to build a new life
You never liked winter, you never liked much
Except taking vacations, and buying new stuff
I saw you changing, from sweet to abrupt
Your temper was present, when I wasn’t enough
I fear I’m becoming, a version of you
Just much more romantic, and far less removed
Disclosure is pointless, a universal truth
I guess that’s why you love me, because I remind you, of you
Why don’t you miss me, why when I cry
Questions have Answers, at least they do in my eyes
Why won’t you listen, to reason or rhyme
You can’t just leave me, to build a new life
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
Taking pictures of her bloody nose, in the ladies room
Pulling her hair behind her ears, just to hide the proof, spray some perfume
You can walk outside one at a time, her after you
Just turn the light off and remove the residue
Dirty hands and dirty fingernails, in a college bar
Winstons and twenty-four ounce cans, of Labatt Blue, I think he’s had a few
Too many one night stands, to stand up and salute
It’s another moment in a night, under a moon
It is the only way to prove
You can live in post-truth
In this society
In the red, white, and the blue
It’s a mirror, the screen in front of you
If I am alive, it’s really only half of the time
The other half, I’m sucking air
If I leave, I would leave in an immaculate way
In a way that helps to understand
That I’m Becoming Myself Again
Telepathic guru of the streets, she’s a movie scene
Calculated markets dictating, who lives and sleeps, who fucking eats
Inside a penthouse, underground, and underneath
We’re swiping credit cards to satisfy your needs
It’s the only way to prove
You can live in post-truth
In this society
In the red, white, and the blue
It’s a mirror, the screen in front of you
If I am alive, it’s really only half of the time
The other half, I’m sucking air
If I leave, I would leave in an immaculate way
In a way that helps to understand
I am Becoming Myself Again
It’s a mirror, the screen in front of you
|
||||
5. |
Double Yellow Lines
04:32
|
|||
|
Another breath of fresh air, deep into my lungs
Tainted by nicotine, and other, harder drugs
Another day regretting, who I am and who I was
I paint imperfect pictures, of a man that I don’t trust
And when I think about my sister, and all she overcame
I can feel myself slipping, but I won’t be so brave
When i drink, when I drive
When I swerve, and I’ll cross those, Double Yellow Lines
There is a vision of my mother, on regional TV
She’s crying with my girlfriends, depicting, memories of me
Will you respect me, when I’m gone?
Because my heart breaks for you
Somewhere in between the right and the wrong
I was a passionate man
I was a desperate friend
You could hardly depend, on such a delicate friend
I live under pressure, baby it’s a full court press
My happiness is measured, by a standardized test
And I hate to say it, but now it must be said
But I can’t explain it, because it’s stuck inside my head
It was a foreign feeling, but now it’s found a home
It has naturalized inside me, and there’s nowhere for it to go
If I leave, will you cry
Or will you sing, all the songs that I couldn’t write
There is a window into everything, and everyone I love
I used to live outside it, but now I live above
Will you respect me, when I’m gone?
Because my heart breaks for you
Somewhere in between the right and the wrong
I was a passionate man
I was a desperate friend
You could hardly depend, on such a delicate friend
There is a picture of my mother, on regional TV
And she’s standing with my sister
They’re both, crying for me
Will you respect me, when I’m gone?
|
||||
6. |
Ideas for the Afterlife
06:10
|
|||
|
If I were a leader, I’d make freedom cost
The price of a penny, so you’d forget all that you lost
And if I were a soldier, I would clean my gun
With the paper of my hometown, so they could read all that I’ve done
If I earned a paycheck, I’d send to my mom
Because she works for fucking nothing, just to please her corporate boss
If I could change the weather, I’d keep Nebraska free of snow
Because it’s those desperately long winters, that made my dad move back home
And it’s my indecision, that keeps me paralyzed in bed
I can live under the covers, in world inside my head
But I would hope to cling to, the beauty of a girl
The smoke inside her taste buds, and the powder in her curls
So, please, I said I’m fine
This is just a picture of my condition, I’m just flawed by design
I said don’t cry
I just want a simpler existence, My Ideas for the Afterlife
If I were skinny, I could handle harder drugs
Because like this I get so anxious, that my heart forgets to pump
And when I see my friends all, tuning twenty-five
I can visualize their futures, and it keeps me up at night
Because I still remember, that sweet Mexican boy
He would read about religion, and debate in his smoky voice
And if he taught me anything, he taught me how to live
Like a boy without a father, to find the man inside the kid
So please, I said don’t cry
This is just a picture of my condition, I’m just flawed by design
I said don’t cry
I could use some liquor and a hug now, My Ideas for the Afterlife
|
||||
STATHI recommends:
thirsty and hungry
go to album
Backseat Surfin'
by Eric in Outerspace
eric forever
go to albumIf you like STATHI, you may also like:
Forever Only Idaho
by Harrison Lemke
Big, strummy songs that recall the heart-on-sleeve earnestness and lo-fi glory of early Mountain Goats.
go to album
Pittsburgh artist Merce Lemon makes tender and open-hearted indie pop with echoes of Frankie Cosmos.
go to album
Sweet and honest bedroom pop made with the sparest of instrumentation and topped with poetically melancholy lyrics.
go to album
The Creature That I Call Myself
by Julie Arsenault
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 21, 2015
go to album
