1. |
Tazata
03:33
|
|||
2. |
Invitation
03:40
|
|||
|
When we fail to see
lights in the manuscript
turn dark pages into
flights
or
stages in the night
from the dice roll
sleight of hand
cramped in the summer camp
dancing in the fire
in a trance
-I believe in what I've scanned
in existence
or brought into
only just my sketches that I flip through
shaving off the edges of the distance
is my vision
which I praise like a god
without physics to respond
i was kin to
speaking all my thoughts
I'm a lightning rod for boredom
in a past life
telling me to stop it
try to contain every phase
that paid a greater sum to behave
i'm the son of James
baited hooked fishing lines
and prayed for rain
hated skimming school books
in Pittsburgh where I grew up
had a knack for building bridges
in my mind which never grew up
now i wrinkle every sweater
in a corner where i store my clothes
wearing out the soles of my shoes
until my feet expose
Under lights in the sky
on a cool black evening
breezing
it don't crawl for me
cracks in the sky and my mind
scream hypotheses
what a dreadful portrait
I been painting hanging on this stable
faintly greying table
great for drawing ghosts out from
their photo album traps
and
what i did wasn't hesitant
- can I prove that you're relevant
can I interrupt the feeling headed by wickedness head over toes and someone protecting it
somebody knows
began as an egg
and started to grow
now a stegosaurus sits in portraits
in kitchen corners collecting dust
refrigerator without borders we trust
happy to grow but doubtful of heaven
i'll never escape, I will never escape
and the pit and they pendulum guided my youth
through tires which hung from the trees as a swing
helping me reach for a future which I
would never be king, would never be king
helping me reach for a crown which I
wear just the same
|
||||
3. |
Lemon Juice
03:02
|
|||
|
silence in fabric
no swish in direction of the stealth
that was felt
from the tongue to the lips
blah blah
tuning forks
strings and guitar chords
picnics impose
winter was close
I said, "what you know about moving the dead?"
you said, " ma'am not much"
-man I am sleeping
oil in beards
only witnessing life as my shadow appears
falls down the stairs
cascades
that's right
i'm me
for life
swim through
good grief
skin used
as sheets
some nights
-old men are lights in the cave
a poet dreams of Virgil the same
franzia blush
in the moments I trust
racing to pace
in the traffic i'm placed
strange in some ways
like a hook to a worm
learning to live in presence of harm
the moon and it's charms
My new hair
it starts to bloom
it starts to grow back
- I am lost in it
and no dreams but the walls are now scented
arresting an interest placed in a plucked out
hollow of a socket
that I trusted and I struck down
-mellow is the cream of the centerpiece
all hopscotch but the butter aint tinted
like the lines on the pavement
grape kool-aid from the basement
lot vacant
crepe savory
aint paying me
hands cut from identity to cuff
now my fists stay balled in the dust
like a portrait of scorpions
painted in palette knife
in alien red like a lobster at sacrifice
-eyes draw heavy in the distance
to a melding of heat and a vaporous vision
I've stuffed in my shirt all my tools for existence
|
||||
4. |
Virtual Reality
01:44
|
|||
5. |
All I Know About Success
02:50
|
|||
|
Onward through the tall grass
All roads leave you lost
All pride leaves it's mark
So you can crawl back
stand mixing heavy lines
- in the heaven scented lies
through the teeth in a whisper
we were told last
abject failure
- can't type or else I'm stuck
can't try unless the blue mixes shadows
from behind the glow of street lights
coffee in the morning
don't have time
drink the pot inside your car
once you've parked it
say 'hi'
be fine
be calm
be pro
do things
that we think adults do
we spoke in dreams so calming
but now we've woken up
eyes half opened up
eyes half caffeinated
blood evaporated
pulse thuds downward
eyebrows scowling
I fail at things so common
- succeed at things so abstract
won't speak when spoken to
5 seconds deep in thought my marrow steeps and pops
and while the wishbone breaks you've set the mood
I'm way across the room stuck with pouting lips
drain get's clogged and I think I know how to do the deed
when i'm in my seat
but when I'm trying though my tool belt's exposed
I can't find videos that match my sink
things get kicked and I'm coming down
off a know-it-all high
no sense in pride
i'll most likely record this song
in quiet tones cause my wife is home
Brandt's old mic it needs returned
but it's in my room where the cat sleeps sound
I plan wake them up with selfish songs hope
1 person might like
But probably won't
|
||||
6. |
Safety
03:00
|
|||
|
Slumped back in the mirror
where my eyes draw to static
and it pulse through the woods
like a horse drawing carriage
in the mist no one watches
as my face turns awkward
in the course of an evening
drives violent and hapless
- I only stood to watch through the curtains
of the veil that was lifted
in a stare so apparent
that I tore through my pupils
in a burst of introspection
-baited breath hangs like lantern
- Please call home if your safe
and decorate the outside with lights on strings
illuminate the night so you won't blend in
and speed in the air so you won't catch wind
Slumped in the mirror while I stand straight up
- phone's off the hook no dial tone
I can't risk another night's dreams
when they all sing songs like they know about me
Roof caving in though the beams stand sturdy
wordless apparition in the breeze holds hands
- I don't even decorate knowing that
time will destroy it if it's got it in it's plans
hands loose, candles, air noose, & canned fruit
i must not chip my teeth on the same spoon
i will not, sleep much, dreams with degrees of grief
& i should rest but I scrape through with weak knees
10 speed gears here
stripped in appearance
but we can make it home steer straight heed wait
seal fate with a crash and a snow filled bank
on the outskirts of town love waits while you pace
called from the mouth to the ear
words miss trust by a few
all the pieces are torn and subdued
- I'm not even cold anymore
in a home where the world won't do
|
||||
7. |
Color Therapy
02:29
|
|||
8. |
Aerated Bones
04:16
|
|||
|
I was someone else you know
be it either here or there
I left my home
with no direction
geode broken on the dresser
I was carving weapons in this war
for where my home once sat
the phone cord in my lap
and all my fingers turned to stone
Dampness in my bones
pace like a runaway
nights come to a close
and sunlight's my enemy
walk the streets heavy
with my feet on the curbside
I burn miles
somewhere in between
pavement and the turnstiles
erstwhile destiny
with pockets lined argyle
buy new hairdo's
and brushed teeth adult smiles
eerily similar
nobody is familiar
-anxious while talking
divert eyes and keep walking
strangers like to strangle
crush bones while you sleep
humanity a cannibal
it drips blood from raw meat
-life curds as it squeaks in it's teeth
paint your lungs black and
- turn beast
eerily similar
I can't speak when hopeless or homeless
or confess my process to someone
I've lost all my honesty
from childhood to novelty
-speaks in a laugh track
my life denotes comedy
lines in the dirt broken in place
that holds bases
to bear metal
sleeves of stitch with no laces
knuckles in the dust
pace like a runaway
books come to a close
and endings my enemy
walk the streets quiet
with my hands covering my ears
place them in my pockets
when there's no one else to talk with
sight line in the haze of the morning air
stars turn inward in a second of discretion
I was blanked blacked out
hand mouth
no thoughts
brainless
stained with the dreams
hang with the thieves
fangs in the neck
show your respect
or don't
teeth crack in the back of my jaw
when I spoke
or don't
MADE up the words
don't mean a thing
ARtist create universe
these just words
i'm the worst
still feel the same
strong when I'm done
then gets expose
hung on a line
nude to the world
flaws on display
tell me I'm good
must mean a thing
don't mean a thing
Live to be heard
Must hang my head
won't shake it off
sleep when I'm good
go walk the dog
headphones always on
When I'm gone
|
||||
9. |
Mount St. Helens
02:42
|
|||
|
Oh charcoal palm
that began as a silent protest
a bare chest, choral voices
from within it's canvas
and stretched outward as the morning sun regretted kissing
hillsides from both sides
the evening peaked it's crown between them
-bottles and stained glass
martyrs all fade fast
looks licking distance is save points
and pin pricking blisters hissing jaw joints
parked between gums
pray inside tents
Dead yogi tea
drink it for the headaches
an old camcorder plays
we stared at the snowflakes
and fine tailored 80's night sky
in the background
while Mt. St. Helen's brimmed ash
washed passed
-Apartment lights
With houses glowing intermittent
As the trees deny the summer's teeth
and shadows cast inside her reach
last days gone longer walks in the woods
stumble on the sinners and they talk where they stood
bottle rocket dreams and a bigfoot action figure
blinded from the take off submerged and unheard
in the creek beneath our feet
will our honest hearts beat
playing theme songs from an era long gone
on repeat
-from a hoodie from a sleeve
and the Reeboks on my feet
stood sand from the bank
and the cuffs of my jeans
-i was turning when the night fall
brushed upon my shoulder
and the summer slept a year
without heat
no dreams
no
no dreams
|
||||
10. |
{Fine Lines}
02:14
|
|||
11. |
{Whoo}
03:03
|
|||
12. |
{Pring}
02:51
|
|||
13. |
{Hands}
02:50
|
|||
14. |
{Own Time}
03:33
|
|||
15. |
{Polyester}
02:44
|
|||
16. |
And finally... Guidebook
02:40
|
|||
17. |
||||
Unsung Morgantown, West Virginia
If you like Unsung, you may also like:
I Think I've Lost It.
by KILLVONGARD
supported by 5 fans who also own “Mount St. Helens (Deluxe Edition)”
This album is an impressive feet of writing and sound design. Kill sets such an incredible mood throughout the record, and the writing is consuming, reflective, full of dark humor, and the weight of life. Easily one of favorite albums to drop this year.
go to album
supported by 5 fans who also own “Mount St. Helens (Deluxe Edition)”
go to album
The Klassic Tape, Vol. 1
by Klassic Kell
featured on Bandcamp Radio Jul 30, 2021
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Feb 9, 2024
go to album
How To Capture Playful
by Pink Navel & Kenny Segal
featured on Bandcamp Radio Nov 2, 2023
go to album
supported by 4 fans who also own “Mount St. Helens (Deluxe Edition)”
Joshua Virtue is the future
go to album
