LOADING DATA
Bosse-de-Nage
Members | |
---|---|
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
Member(bands): Succumb, The Lord Weird Slough Feg, Fetus by the Pound (live) | |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
# | Discography | Type | Year | |
---|---|---|---|---|
1 | Demo I | Demo | 2006 | Show album |
2 | Demo II | Demo | 2006 | Show album |
3 | Bosse-de-Nage | Full-length | 2010 | Show album |
4 | II | Full-length | 2011 | Show album |
5 | III | Full-length | 2012 | Show album |
6 | Deafheaven / Bosse-de-Nage | Split | 2012 | Show album |
7 | All Fours | Full-length | 2015 | Show album |
8 | Further Still | Full-length | 2018 | Show album |
Demo I
Tracks | |||
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1. | Untitled | 08:33 | |
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2. | Untitled | 05:24 | |
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3. | Untitled | 06:45 | |
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4. | Untitled | 06:07 | |
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5. | Untitled | 06:21 | |
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33:10 |
Demo II
Tracks | |||
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1. | Excerpt from the 5th Canto | 06:58 | |
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2. | Marie Pisses upon the Count | 06:22 | |
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3. | Excerpt from Paris Spleen | 07:53 | |
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21:13 |
Bosse-de-Nage
Tracks | |||
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1. | Marie | 05:07 | |
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2. | Marie Pisses upon the Count | 06:27 | |
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3. | [untitled] | 06:11 | |
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4. | Excerpt from the 5th Canto | 06:49 | |
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5. | Van Gogh Cooks His Hand | 06:00 | |
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6. | Excerpt from Paris Spleen I | 07:43 | |
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7. | Excerpt from Paris Spleen II | 08:54 | |
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47:11 |
II
Members | |
---|---|
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Volume II Chapter I | 08:11 | Show lyrics |
A man walks briskly down the street. This singular man is distinguished by the anxiety he carries in his stomach. Yet, his burden is as artificial as his coat. His ears tremble with the cry of his living finger nails clipped by machines and his legs quiver with nausea inspired by others. He receives fresh torment from every person he passes. The anxiety enters through his eyes and passes through his bowels. His trouble however is never expelled like last night’s dinner. There is no inspiration or escape. His feelings cannot be pumped from him like semen from the belly of a whore. “Maybe I’ll take a walk through the sewer,” he says. | |||
2. | Marie in a Cage | 07:36 | Show lyrics |
Marie sits in a cage naked and filthy, her shame is available to everyone. Several men surround the cage and shower her with their urine. Wild animals are allowed in the cage one at a time for several hours a day. None can resist the odor of Marie’s sex. The baboon caresses her breasts, the elk licks her ass, and the zebra enters her from behind. At night she howls with the wolves like a bitch in heat waiting for the sun to rise again. A gentleman offers Marie his hat. She shits in the hat and wears it for three days. | |||
3. | The Lampless Hours | 06:00 | Show lyrics |
A sort of depression engenders a compulsion to continue. It is difficult to communicate to the outside world from inside a lung. My plan is to write and rewrite (automatically) however long it takes. To throw some pages into the fire and rearrange what is left. The expression is sloppy and destroyed before it manifests. When the lampless hours end will I be nearer? Though my beard grows hoary and thick like the coat of mastodons, I will not. | |||
4. | The Death Posture | 09:24 | Show lyrics |
In the next room there is a faint cry from a woman who fades rapidly. My horror and curiosity draw me to the front door. On the other side of its mirror threshold a man waits for me. His countenance mutates and changes the nature of the world. He forces me into the Death Posture. Prone before the mirror I experience an ineffable transubstantiation. I regret his gift of oblivion. A single moment of reflection, panic and terror then an unconscious journey and evaporation. The Death Posture offers no time for awareness or knowledge. I cry desperately for help, but in the next room all they hear is a faint cry from a man who fades rapidly. | |||
5. | Why Am I So Lovely? Because My Master Washes Me | 11:17 | Show lyrics |
At twilight, those who play in the water touch the moon on its waves. In bed, those who lay on the covers hallucinate their existence. A conversation with the slave who fought to save the work from a fire. At midnight, those who play in the dust grasp the wind by its hair. In emptiness, those who die drain their bodies into a bowl left beside the bed. At dawn, the tree that still grows gropes the world with its leaves. | |||
42:28 |
III
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
June 26th, 2012 | Profound Lore Records | PFL 099 | CD | Digipak |
June 26th, 2012 | Profound Lore Records | Digital | Bandcamp | |
March 15th, 2013 | The Flenser | FR24 | 2 12" vinyls | Limited edition |
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Justin Weis | Mixing |
Astrid J. Smith | Artwork |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | The Arborist | 06:19 | Show lyrics |
You have disregarded the advice of your friends and entered an accord with the arborist. He brings you to his special garden at the center of which is a circle of trees. Next to each tree is a sort of well that is meant to receive a person. You will be placed in one of these holes with only your head above the earth. For several weeks you will engage in intense meditation on your novel existence. However, you will eventually grow anxious and restless. Others will come and take their places in the holes near you. You will find it easy to befriend them, but as the months pass you will begin to bicker and experience jealousy. At length, the affinity you feel for your tree becomes something which you cannot express and you will form a union which excludes all others. Soon after, young roots will find you and brush against your most tender places. |
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2. | Desuetude | 07:30 | Show lyrics |
I leave this old thing here on the ground to decay in the sun’s light. It was a part of me, but it has its own atmosphere now. It is useless to me. I walk away. Why doesn’t it disappear? Where does its disgusting smell come from? The stench follows me: on sidewalks, in courtyards, to a bench in the park. I return the next day. I see people walk on it and drive their cars past it. Dogs stop to piss on it. Nobody appears to notice it reflecting them, no one smells it, no one sees me watching it. Now old and fetid, but liberated and perpetual; it was a part of me. |
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3. | Perceive There a Silence | 06:53 | Show lyrics |
Concentrate on the space you wish to enter and Perceive there a silence. Effect the discipline of the cupboard, an automatic procedure. The body folded. Two halves bent on a brittle fulcrum. Limbs stiff. Arms turned into themselves and legs combined. The sex withdrawn. A subtraction of extremities; an economy of cavities. Communication with one’s anus. Two voices combined and destroyed. Body and mind inside time. Indurated. An exact fit. |
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4. | Cells | 05:41 | Show lyrics |
Most of us pass the listless days in these cells on our backs, gazing into the darkness which acts as our ceiling. It is all too easy to succumb to the perpetual oneiric existence this lifestyle offers. The only openings in the cells are a single chest high window on each wall, which allow us to communicate with those in the surrounding cells, and a network of fine cracks that exists on every visible surface. None can say with certainty whether there is anything solid beyond that pitch overhead. To those who seek escape, it seems the only reasonable method is to enter one of the cracks. Some of us have succeeded in projecting ourselves into these tiny spaces and momentarily existing therein. With practice and skill, these moments can be stretched into minutes, then hours, then days. Existence in these spaces between is usually pleasant, but can be terrifying if one loses his head. Most will agree that the worst aspect of passing time there is the always present knowledge of the cell and the body we will return to. There are whispers of cells that house decayed bodies. Some think that these bodies are left by those who have discovered the method to exist permanently beyond. I believe there is a way to escape in the aether space of the cracks and I intend to discover that path and to leave a map for the others to follow. |
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5. | The God Ennui | 10:27 | Show lyrics |
Fine particles are forced from a point on the horizontal mirror. They develop a gritty smoke which moves of its own accord along the surface. It gathers to form a series of lines, then swirling, connected shapes. A mechanical hum fills the air. Twin brothers emerge from the dust. “Watch that man squatting in the corner.” Says the first. “Which man?” “The one who holds his head in his hands and whose tears flow like a river.” “I don’t see him, but I can feel his presence.” “He is the source of our uneasiness, his name is Ennui.” “My arms fold into themselves when I reach for him.” “Will we ever reach you?” The brothers become vague as the mirror loses its color. Their lines extend infinitely instead of renewing themselves. “I can be found in the corner of every room.” Says Ennui. Ennui disintegrates, but leaves behind a piece of his shit. The vertical mirror reflects reality. |
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6. | An Ideal Ledge | 09:22 | Show lyrics |
There is a ledge somewhere set against a deadly precipice which Spring’s nostalgic winds never reach. It overlooks the confluence every sewer built by man. I stand naked and erect on this rock scarcely wide enough for my bare feet to rest flat. I watch the fluids below roll and fold. All of my lovers past and future present themselves naked in that muck, pulsating like eggs. A thousand epigones below cry: “Only to live, to live, to live…” |
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46:12 |
Deafheaven / Bosse-de-Nage
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Bosse-de-Nage | |
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Deafheaven | |
Derek Prine | Bass |
Trevor Deschryver | Drums |
Nick Bassett | Guitars |
Kerry McCoy | Guitars |
George Clarke | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Astrid J. Smith | Arrangements (violin, strings) |
Justin Weis | Recording, Mixing |
Jack Shirley | Producer, Recording, Mixing, Mastering |
Tracks | |||
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Side A | |||
1. | Deafheaven - Punk Rock / Cody (Mogwai cover) | 10:37 | Show lyrics |
Of all I knew, her held too few. And would you stop me, if I try to stop you. Old songs stay ’til the end. Sad songs remind me of friends. And the way it is, I could leave it all And I ask myself, would you care at all. When I drive alone at night, I see the streetlights as fairgrounds And I tried a hundred times to see the road signs as Day-Glo. Old songs, stay till the end. Sad songs, remind me of friends. And the way it is, I could leave it all And I ask myself, would you care at all |
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Side B | |||
2. | Bosse-de-Nage - A Mimesis of Purpose | 09:02 | Show lyrics |
Rows of tall, windowless buildings enclose a desolate street. All of their lines are rigid and clean; there is no garbage or dirt on any surface. A warm but dim light of indistinct origin causes their shadows to stretch unnaturally and assume a color darker than midnight. An observer, his mind swollen and stale, props his heavy body against a building in order to concentrate. A silent mob drags a woman’s limp body across the street in front of him. Her shirt rips exposing her breasts. This moment exerts pressure on the observer. He turns his gaze to a nearby tree. Its growth, a gesture invisible to his eyes, but persistently present, suggests alternative counsel. His fatigue is overwhelming. At such junctures a man determines how to dedicate his life. | |||
19:39 |
All Fours
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
April 14th, 2015 | Profound Lore Records | PFL 151 | CD | |
April 14th, 2015 | Profound Lore Records | Digital | Bandcamp | |
July 10th, 2015 | The Flenser | FR60 | 2 12" vinyls | Clear/cream swirl vinyl, Limited edition |
July 10th, 2015 | The Flenser | FR60 | 2 12" vinyls | 2 colors |
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Jack Shirley | Producer |
Tracks | |||
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1. | At Night | 08:21 | Show lyrics |
When she was a child, Marie decided to live her life as a horse. She greatly enjoyed her agony, but eventually the humiliations of the saddle lost their appeal. She lives with me now, in this house where every night we play the same game. It begins at dusk; Marie taunts me with her naked breasts, which hang like dazzling moons, then I dump one of our many overflowing ashtrays over her body. The ashes cling to the urine on her torn clothes forming new, amusing patterns each time. At night she reenacts scenes from her passion. She kicks and screams on all fours—her violent dressage thrills me. When she is too tired to move, I collect the bitter flakes from her head. I press against her naked body and squeeze it until she loses any remaining pretense of beauty. These acts are nauseating but necessary. |
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2. | The Industry of Distance | 05:57 | Show lyrics |
Observe your years of anonymous industry from a distance You exist suspended in the fumes of a postulated hell Where fatigue and despair are unchecked: The city’s streets are filled with people in a tableau of routine One day, you trip on a broken road and they scream and cry You settle waist deep in their insults while Your life’s work is scattered by their stinking breaths Remember that you existed in the same place one year ago, ten years ago, etc. Escape quickly into a proliferation of momentary rooms Choose the room where you will become a corpse on a bed and Wait for your moments of anonymous sleep to gather close then expand lengthwise The people will remember you for your large nose and receding chin. |
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3. | - | 02:04 | |
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4. | A Subtle Change | 05:52 | Show lyrics |
A subtle change in the light or an abrupt noise Perhaps a word or phrase that ignites the intellect A decision made on a whim or after careful consideration The slightest incident… Any of these might be the catalyst which Starts one racing inexorably down the road with the darkest conclusion |
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5. | Washerwoman | 09:21 | Show lyrics |
On the other side of the glass, the night asserts its authority; but we are inside, suspended by spirits, and preserved in a healthful light that fills the room and shines out through large windows to the edge of the clearing. Twigs crack like whips as a woman emerges from the forest. She steps forth, bearing a dark cylinder; it stands in prominent contrast to her nudity as she moves into the light. The room is crowded, but I’m the only one watching as she takes the cylinder into her mouth. She smashes the window with that object. It lands at my feet—a bar of black soap, rigid and wet. The party stands transfixed as she crawls through the broken glass. The light grows dim, and with her mouth full of lather she announces, “I come from the City of Hair beyond the Wrinkled Mountain and I will not rest until I’ve washed every penis in this room.” |
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6. | In a Yard Somewhere | 05:45 | Show lyrics |
Unseeing Melancholy, whose vision is obstructed, but not asleep Advised a young man to inhale her bilious gas from a bottle, Whose interior is lined with mirrors. The look on his face after he breathed that vapor startled the gardener, Whose vast city of plants sustains the bees. “Reflect upon your life which is irreversible like my draft,” she said. The young man nodded, and who can describe his hope or regret that afternoon? His mouth twisted in a demure smile as if it was all a joke. The frantic gardener rushed about the yard, While the boy sat on a patch of earth near the backdoor Waiting. |
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7. | To Fall Down | 07:43 | Show lyrics |
____ fell into the space between thoughts His six plump breasts surged and emptied All desire and language fell away And just as he began to grow transparent The image of a cabinet occurred to him It’s open doors a symbol of inanimate mercy The temptation to struggle was rehabilitated But the cabinet soon tumbled away Pulled by the gravity of a distant stream The tips of ideas exposed in its current Like feet from under a long dress That modest glimpse of flesh which belies A profound expanse of passion Hidden in a cavern of billowing cloth And he fell and his body leaked |
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8. | The Most Modern Staircase | 09:48 | Show lyrics |
I traveled to the province of staircases. The great variety of balusters, railing, finials and steps filled me with awe. Many looked welcoming, while others were intentionally obscured or blocked up, and some were decorated with vibrant warnings to anyone who might ascend. I found the most modern looking staircase and climbed. After a while, I stopped on a landing to rest. This extraordinary landing was home to dozens of living statues, obsequious stone gods begging for spare hands. As I explored, a loud commotion with historic consequences occurred somewhere behind me. When I looked back, there was a curtain drawn around the event. I turned to the statues for answers, but they remained inert and silent, their jagged stumps eager for relief |
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54:51 |
Further Still
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
September 14th, 2018 | The Flenser | FR90 | 12" vinyl | |
September 14th, 2018 | The Flenser | FR90 | 12" vinyl | Limited edition, Colored Vinyl |
September 14th, 2018 | The Flenser | FR90 | CD | |
September 14th, 2018 | The Flenser | Digital | Bandcamp |
Tracks | |||
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Side A | |||
1. | The Trench | 05:10 | Show lyrics |
Every day is the same; we get up at sunrise and begin our work on The Trench. Since we all sleep together there’s hardly any wasted time, we just stand up and stretch a little as we eat, then get to digging. All day long we dig, shoveling the dirt back over our shoulders at a furious pace. The completed portion of The Trench—our life’s work—extends in a perfectly straight line behind us. It reaches across the barren, almost featureless landscape all the way to the horizon. But there aren’t many opportunities to turn around and look because we’re so busy digging. Those of us in good physical condition perform the most rigorous tasks, like picking at the obstinate ground or hauling dirt away from the excavation. The rest do what we can to sweep the dust into little piles and maintain the precise shape of The Trench. Once I’m too old to perform even these simple functions my only value will be of the nutritive sort. When that day comes I’ll wait until it’s dark and try to sneak off down The Trench, though it’s unlikely that I’ll make it very far. | |||
2. | Down Here | 03:48 | Show lyrics |
I am old and filthy. My body is rotten. The disfiguration of my physique is so advanced that my appearance is practically unimaginable. Although my life began in a pit, a structure was erected above me many years ago. Now I dwell in its basement. Nobody comes to see me. Rats and insects are my only companions. They tell me that the creators of the building under which I reside have sealed me in. I do not loathe them for this act, even though they replaced my once soft floor with a slab of concrete. Besides myself, the basement is totally empty. It is dark and musty. It serves no purpose. And yet the entire world is down here, the whole universe. |
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3. | Crux | 03:57 | Show lyrics |
At the end of a hallway there are two closed doors which face each other. Between them, on a small table against the wall, the soft radiance of a lamp hollows out the gloom of that windowless region. It is known that the door to the left opens on a closet filled with junk, a collection of detritus so high and dense that it might never be explored completely. The other door leads to a room wherein dwells an accretion of loathsome utterances. But the crux of the matter is not to be found in the contents of the rooms or the doors, nor in the lamp or the hallway itself. No, the main thing is that I predicted them all. This place and its objects are exactly as they should be. | |||
4. | Listless | 04:17 | Show lyrics |
There is an unpleasant sensation Which comes about when one has Stayed in the same place for too long It is something like that revulsion we feel When a coalition of tiny red spiders Settles at the back of our throat All they want is a nice place to inhabit So we ignore them for a time Even though their presence is intolerable At some point, after many generations Have lived and died back there The stupidity of our inaction becomes apparent How idiotic it was to let them stay And for so long at that Then at the meridian of our disgust That fecund clot is ejected and The resulting emptiness begets a dull ache A listlessness which blooms in their absence |
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5. | Dolorous Interlude | 03:52 | |
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Side B | |||
6. | My Shroud | 06:23 | Show lyrics |
I was born dressed in a shroud, and I have been wearing it ever since. I will die wearing it. It is an astonishing thing to imagine, an infant emerging from the womb already clothed. Yet nobody present at my birth seemed to notice, nor has anyone brought it up since then. My shroud is made from a remarkable material. The fabric is so finely woven that it is not visible to the human eye—not even I can see it. But I assure you it’s there, draped over my shoulders just as always. Over the years my shroud has grown considerably, so that I must drag a long sheet of cloth behind me wherever I go. Its weight is immense, and neither encouraging words nor wine can mitigate the burden. Like I said, I will die wearing my shroud. What I am just now able to admit is that my death will be a result of it. |
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7. | Sword Swallower | 04:20 | Show lyrics |
Before the Sword Swallower took the stage, his assistant rolled out a cart arrayed with a variety of small objects. Then the great showman himself emerged, bearing the implement of his trade. His blade was so long that, while he held it straight, it arched back with the tip hovering just above his scalp. The audience laughed, for nobody believed it possible that such a weapon might ever be consumed. But all at once the Sword Swallower threw back his head and thrust the blade upward, forcing its point down his throat. He compelled it in some ingenious way until nearly the whole length had disappeared. Certain members of that breathless crowd might have seen the look of ecstasy which washed over the sword swallower’s face at that moment. As he drove the last of it down, the tip emerged from his antipodal orifice. He turned around so that everyone could see it protruding from the back of his pants. The sharp edge glittered under the heavy lights. Then the sword swallower shuffled over to the little cart where he proceeded to slice up the objects one at a time, amidst a standing ovation. | |||
8. | Vestiges | 05:03 | Show lyrics |
All of a sudden, during a brief hesitation in their game, one of the children screamed. It was a singular utterance as abrupt and violent as a sneeze, yet resounding enough to rattle the walls. The others huddled together in the far corner of the room and sat watching in mute awe as the strange cry reverberated around them. The whole house trembled for several long minutes. Gradually the shaking dwindled to a slight, moribund vibration; and the remnants of that scream—its vestiges which still ricocheted softly within the interstices of the house—began to emerge after a while in a series of plump, colorless disks. The disks joined together one after the other until they formed a slender cord that resembled a rat’s tail. It twisted there briefly like a ribbon in the wind, then flew away in an instant, leaving a trail of echoes. | |||
9. | A Faraway Place | 06:53 | Show lyrics |
It wasn’t until we reached the third reality that I became truly convinced by the primitive, angular landscape which had begun to materialize around us from the moment we set out. Deep down I knew it was false, but we’d traveled far enough to confuse my senses for a while. We trod upon a narrow path that meandered through a forest dense with suicides. Legions of putrid limbs brushed against us as we struggled to reach the other side. Finally we emerged on a level plain and stopped to rest. With the dimensionless sky pressing down on us, we swallowed the fraudulent air of that faraway place. In the distance a convoy of figures approached. They crossed a river of geometric gore, then passed us without greeting. Silently they marched in our tracks back into that terrible wood, and with renewed purpose we followed their trail across the plain. Soon we’d traveled so far West that we were East again. I turned to you and shrugged before we continued further still. |
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43:43 |
III
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Justin Weis | Mixing |
Astrid J. Smith | Artwork |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | The Arborist | 06:19 | Show lyrics |
You have disregarded the advice of your friends and entered an accord with the arborist. He brings you to his special garden at the center of which is a circle of trees. Next to each tree is a sort of well that is meant to receive a person. You will be placed in one of these holes with only your head above the earth. For several weeks you will engage in intense meditation on your novel existence. However, you will eventually grow anxious and restless. Others will come and take their places in the holes near you. You will find it easy to befriend them, but as the months pass you will begin to bicker and experience jealousy. At length, the affinity you feel for your tree becomes something which you cannot express and you will form a union which excludes all others. Soon after, young roots will find you and brush against your most tender places. |
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2. | Desuetude | 07:30 | Show lyrics |
I leave this old thing here on the ground to decay in the sun’s light. It was a part of me, but it has its own atmosphere now. It is useless to me. I walk away. Why doesn’t it disappear? Where does its disgusting smell come from? The stench follows me: on sidewalks, in courtyards, to a bench in the park. I return the next day. I see people walk on it and drive their cars past it. Dogs stop to piss on it. Nobody appears to notice it reflecting them, no one smells it, no one sees me watching it. Now old and fetid, but liberated and perpetual; it was a part of me. |
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3. | Perceive There a Silence | 06:53 | Show lyrics |
Concentrate on the space you wish to enter and Perceive there a silence. Effect the discipline of the cupboard, an automatic procedure. The body folded. Two halves bent on a brittle fulcrum. Limbs stiff. Arms turned into themselves and legs combined. The sex withdrawn. A subtraction of extremities; an economy of cavities. Communication with one’s anus. Two voices combined and destroyed. Body and mind inside time. Indurated. An exact fit. |
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4. | Cells | 05:41 | Show lyrics |
Most of us pass the listless days in these cells on our backs, gazing into the darkness which acts as our ceiling. It is all too easy to succumb to the perpetual oneiric existence this lifestyle offers. The only openings in the cells are a single chest high window on each wall, which allow us to communicate with those in the surrounding cells, and a network of fine cracks that exists on every visible surface. None can say with certainty whether there is anything solid beyond that pitch overhead. To those who seek escape, it seems the only reasonable method is to enter one of the cracks. Some of us have succeeded in projecting ourselves into these tiny spaces and momentarily existing therein. With practice and skill, these moments can be stretched into minutes, then hours, then days. Existence in these spaces between is usually pleasant, but can be terrifying if one loses his head. Most will agree that the worst aspect of passing time there is the always present knowledge of the cell and the body we will return to. There are whispers of cells that house decayed bodies. Some think that these bodies are left by those who have discovered the method to exist permanently beyond. I believe there is a way to escape in the aether space of the cracks and I intend to discover that path and to leave a map for the others to follow. |
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5. | The God Ennui | 10:27 | Show lyrics |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
6. | An Ideal Ledge | 09:22 | Show lyrics |
There is a ledge somewhere set against a deadly precipice which Spring’s nostalgic winds never reach. It overlooks the confluence every sewer built by man. I stand naked and erect on this rock scarcely wide enough for my bare feet to rest flat. I watch the fluids below roll and fold. All of my lovers past and future present themselves naked in that muck, pulsating like eggs. A thousand epigones below cry: “Only to live, to live, to live…” |
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46:12 |
III
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Justin Weis | Mixing |
Astrid J. Smith | Artwork |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | The Arborist | 06:19 | Show lyrics |
You have disregarded the advice of your friends and entered an accord with the arborist. He brings you to his special garden at the center of which is a circle of trees. Next to each tree is a sort of well that is meant to receive a person. You will be placed in one of these holes with only your head above the earth. For several weeks you will engage in intense meditation on your novel existence. However, you will eventually grow anxious and restless. Others will come and take their places in the holes near you. You will find it easy to befriend them, but as the months pass you will begin to bicker and experience jealousy. At length, the affinity you feel for your tree becomes something which you cannot express and you will form a union which excludes all others. Soon after, young roots will find you and brush against your most tender places. |
|||
2. | Desuetude | 07:30 | Show lyrics |
I leave this old thing here on the ground to decay in the sun’s light. It was a part of me, but it has its own atmosphere now. It is useless to me. I walk away. Why doesn’t it disappear? Where does its disgusting smell come from? The stench follows me: on sidewalks, in courtyards, to a bench in the park. I return the next day. I see people walk on it and drive their cars past it. Dogs stop to piss on it. Nobody appears to notice it reflecting them, no one smells it, no one sees me watching it. Now old and fetid, but liberated and perpetual; it was a part of me. |
|||
3. | Perceive There a Silence | 06:53 | Show lyrics |
Concentrate on the space you wish to enter and Perceive there a silence. Effect the discipline of the cupboard, an automatic procedure. The body folded. Two halves bent on a brittle fulcrum. Limbs stiff. Arms turned into themselves and legs combined. The sex withdrawn. A subtraction of extremities; an economy of cavities. Communication with one’s anus. Two voices combined and destroyed. Body and mind inside time. Indurated. An exact fit. |
|||
4. | Cells | 05:41 | Show lyrics |
Most of us pass the listless days in these cells on our backs, gazing into the darkness which acts as our ceiling. It is all too easy to succumb to the perpetual oneiric existence this lifestyle offers. The only openings in the cells are a single chest high window on each wall, which allow us to communicate with those in the surrounding cells, and a network of fine cracks that exists on every visible surface. None can say with certainty whether there is anything solid beyond that pitch overhead. To those who seek escape, it seems the only reasonable method is to enter one of the cracks. Some of us have succeeded in projecting ourselves into these tiny spaces and momentarily existing therein. With practice and skill, these moments can be stretched into minutes, then hours, then days. Existence in these spaces between is usually pleasant, but can be terrifying if one loses his head. Most will agree that the worst aspect of passing time there is the always present knowledge of the cell and the body we will return to. There are whispers of cells that house decayed bodies. Some think that these bodies are left by those who have discovered the method to exist permanently beyond. I believe there is a way to escape in the aether space of the cracks and I intend to discover that path and to leave a map for the others to follow. |
|||
5. | The God Ennui | 10:27 | Show lyrics |
Fine particles are forced from a point on the horizontal mirror. They develop a gritty smoke which moves of its own accord along the surface. It gathers to form a series of lines, then swirling, connected shapes. A mechanical hum fills the air. Twin brothers emerge from the dust. “Watch that man squatting in the corner.” Says the first. “Which man?” “The one who holds his head in his hands and whose tears flow like a river.” “I don’t see him, but I can feel his presence.” “He is the source of our uneasiness, his name is Ennui.” “My arms fold into themselves when I reach for him.” “Will we ever reach you?” The brothers become vague as the mirror loses its color. Their lines extend infinitely instead of renewing themselves. “I can be found in the corner of every room.” Says Ennui. Ennui disintegrates, but leaves behind a piece of his shit. The vertical mirror reflects reality. |
|||
6. | An Ideal Ledge | 09:22 | Show lyrics |
There is a ledge somewhere set against a deadly precipice which Spring’s nostalgic winds never reach. It overlooks the confluence every sewer built by man. I stand naked and erect on this rock scarcely wide enough for my bare feet to rest flat. I watch the fluids below roll and fold. All of my lovers past and future present themselves naked in that muck, pulsating like eggs. A thousand epigones below cry: “Only to live, to live, to live…” |
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46:12 |
III
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Justin Weis | Mixing |
Astrid J. Smith | Artwork |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Disc 1 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | The Arborist | 06:19 | Show lyrics |
You have disregarded the advice of your friends and entered an accord with the arborist. He brings you to his special garden at the center of which is a circle of trees. Next to each tree is a sort of well that is meant to receive a person. You will be placed in one of these holes with only your head above the earth. For several weeks you will engage in intense meditation on your novel existence. However, you will eventually grow anxious and restless. Others will come and take their places in the holes near you. You will find it easy to befriend them, but as the months pass you will begin to bicker and experience jealousy. At length, the affinity you feel for your tree becomes something which you cannot express and you will form a union which excludes all others. Soon after, young roots will find you and brush against your most tender places. |
|||
2. | Desuetude | 07:30 | Show lyrics |
I leave this old thing here on the ground to decay in the sun’s light. It was a part of me, but it has its own atmosphere now. It is useless to me. I walk away. Why doesn’t it disappear? Where does its disgusting smell come from? The stench follows me: on sidewalks, in courtyards, to a bench in the park. I return the next day. I see people walk on it and drive their cars past it. Dogs stop to piss on it. Nobody appears to notice it reflecting them, no one smells it, no one sees me watching it. Now old and fetid, but liberated and perpetual; it was a part of me. |
|||
Side B | |||
3. | Perceive There a Silence | 06:53 | Show lyrics |
Concentrate on the space you wish to enter and Perceive there a silence. Effect the discipline of the cupboard, an automatic procedure. The body folded. Two halves bent on a brittle fulcrum. Limbs stiff. Arms turned into themselves and legs combined. The sex withdrawn. A subtraction of extremities; an economy of cavities. Communication with one’s anus. Two voices combined and destroyed. Body and mind inside time. Indurated. An exact fit. |
|||
4. | Cells | 05:41 | Show lyrics |
Most of us pass the listless days in these cells on our backs, gazing into the darkness which acts as our ceiling. It is all too easy to succumb to the perpetual oneiric existence this lifestyle offers. The only openings in the cells are a single chest high window on each wall, which allow us to communicate with those in the surrounding cells, and a network of fine cracks that exists on every visible surface. None can say with certainty whether there is anything solid beyond that pitch overhead. To those who seek escape, it seems the only reasonable method is to enter one of the cracks. Some of us have succeeded in projecting ourselves into these tiny spaces and momentarily existing therein. With practice and skill, these moments can be stretched into minutes, then hours, then days. Existence in these spaces between is usually pleasant, but can be terrifying if one loses his head. Most will agree that the worst aspect of passing time there is the always present knowledge of the cell and the body we will return to. There are whispers of cells that house decayed bodies. Some think that these bodies are left by those who have discovered the method to exist permanently beyond. I believe there is a way to escape in the aether space of the cracks and I intend to discover that path and to leave a map for the others to follow. |
|||
26:23 | |||
Disc 2 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | The God Ennui | 10:27 | Show lyrics |
Fine particles are forced from a point on the horizontal mirror. They develop a gritty smoke which moves of its own accord along the surface. It gathers to form a series of lines, then swirling, connected shapes. A mechanical hum fills the air. Twin brothers emerge from the dust. “Watch that man squatting in the corner.” Says the first. “Which man?” “The one who holds his head in his hands and whose tears flow like a river.” “I don’t see him, but I can feel his presence.” “He is the source of our uneasiness, his name is Ennui.” “My arms fold into themselves when I reach for him.” “Will we ever reach you?” The brothers become vague as the mirror loses its color. Their lines extend infinitely instead of renewing themselves. “I can be found in the corner of every room.” Says Ennui. Ennui disintegrates, but leaves behind a piece of his shit. The vertical mirror reflects reality. |
|||
Side B | |||
2. | An Ideal Ledge | 09:22 | Show lyrics |
There is a ledge somewhere set against a deadly precipice which Spring’s nostalgic winds never reach. It overlooks the confluence every sewer built by man. I stand naked and erect on this rock scarcely wide enough for my bare feet to rest flat. I watch the fluids below roll and fold. All of my lovers past and future present themselves naked in that muck, pulsating like eggs. A thousand epigones below cry: “Only to live, to live, to live…” |
|||
19:49 |
All Fours
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Jack Shirley | Producer |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | At Night | 08:21 | Show lyrics |
When she was a child, Marie decided to live her life as a horse. She greatly enjoyed her agony, but eventually the humiliations of the saddle lost their appeal. She lives with me now, in this house where every night we play the same game. It begins at dusk; Marie taunts me with her naked breasts, which hang like dazzling moons, then I dump one of our many overflowing ashtrays over her body. The ashes cling to the urine on her torn clothes forming new, amusing patterns each time. At night she reenacts scenes from her passion. She kicks and screams on all fours—her violent dressage thrills me. When she is too tired to move, I collect the bitter flakes from her head. I press against her naked body and squeeze it until she loses any remaining pretense of beauty. These acts are nauseating but necessary. |
|||
2. | The Industry of Distance | 05:57 | Show lyrics |
Observe your years of anonymous industry from a distance You exist suspended in the fumes of a postulated hell Where fatigue and despair are unchecked: The city’s streets are filled with people in a tableau of routine One day, you trip on a broken road and they scream and cry You settle waist deep in their insults while Your life’s work is scattered by their stinking breaths Remember that you existed in the same place one year ago, ten years ago, etc. Escape quickly into a proliferation of momentary rooms Choose the room where you will become a corpse on a bed and Wait for your moments of anonymous sleep to gather close then expand lengthwise The people will remember you for your large nose and receding chin. |
|||
3. | - | 02:04 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
4. | A Subtle Change | 05:52 | Show lyrics |
A subtle change in the light or an abrupt noise Perhaps a word or phrase that ignites the intellect A decision made on a whim or after careful consideration The slightest incident… Any of these might be the catalyst which Starts one racing inexorably down the road with the darkest conclusion |
|||
5. | Washerwoman | 09:21 | Show lyrics |
On the other side of the glass, the night asserts its authority; but we are inside, suspended by spirits, and preserved in a healthful light that fills the room and shines out through large windows to the edge of the clearing. Twigs crack like whips as a woman emerges from the forest. She steps forth, bearing a dark cylinder; it stands in prominent contrast to her nudity as she moves into the light. The room is crowded, but I’m the only one watching as she takes the cylinder into her mouth. She smashes the window with that object. It lands at my feet—a bar of black soap, rigid and wet. The party stands transfixed as she crawls through the broken glass. The light grows dim, and with her mouth full of lather she announces, “I come from the City of Hair beyond the Wrinkled Mountain and I will not rest until I’ve washed every penis in this room.” |
|||
6. | In a Yard Somewhere | 05:45 | Show lyrics |
Unseeing Melancholy, whose vision is obstructed, but not asleep Advised a young man to inhale her bilious gas from a bottle, Whose interior is lined with mirrors. The look on his face after he breathed that vapor startled the gardener, Whose vast city of plants sustains the bees. “Reflect upon your life which is irreversible like my draft,” she said. The young man nodded, and who can describe his hope or regret that afternoon? His mouth twisted in a demure smile as if it was all a joke. The frantic gardener rushed about the yard, While the boy sat on a patch of earth near the backdoor Waiting. |
|||
7. | To Fall Down | 07:43 | Show lyrics |
____ fell into the space between thoughts His six plump breasts surged and emptied All desire and language fell away And just as he began to grow transparent The image of a cabinet occurred to him It’s open doors a symbol of inanimate mercy The temptation to struggle was rehabilitated But the cabinet soon tumbled away Pulled by the gravity of a distant stream The tips of ideas exposed in its current Like feet from under a long dress That modest glimpse of flesh which belies A profound expanse of passion Hidden in a cavern of billowing cloth And he fell and his body leaked |
|||
8. | The Most Modern Staircase | 09:48 | Show lyrics |
I traveled to the province of staircases. The great variety of balusters, railing, finials and steps filled me with awe. Many looked welcoming, while others were intentionally obscured or blocked up, and some were decorated with vibrant warnings to anyone who might ascend. I found the most modern looking staircase and climbed. After a while, I stopped on a landing to rest. This extraordinary landing was home to dozens of living statues, obsequious stone gods begging for spare hands. As I explored, a loud commotion with historic consequences occurred somewhere behind me. When I looked back, there was a curtain drawn around the event. I turned to the statues for answers, but they remained inert and silent, their jagged stumps eager for relief |
|||
54:51 |
All Fours
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Jack Shirley | Producer |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | At Night | 08:21 | Show lyrics |
When she was a child, Marie decided to live her life as a horse. She greatly enjoyed her agony, but eventually the humiliations of the saddle lost their appeal. She lives with me now, in this house where every night we play the same game. It begins at dusk; Marie taunts me with her naked breasts, which hang like dazzling moons, then I dump one of our many overflowing ashtrays over her body. The ashes cling to the urine on her torn clothes forming new, amusing patterns each time. At night she reenacts scenes from her passion. She kicks and screams on all fours—her violent dressage thrills me. When she is too tired to move, I collect the bitter flakes from her head. I press against her naked body and squeeze it until she loses any remaining pretense of beauty. These acts are nauseating but necessary. |
|||
2. | The Industry of Distance | 05:57 | Show lyrics |
Observe your years of anonymous industry from a distance You exist suspended in the fumes of a postulated hell Where fatigue and despair are unchecked: The city’s streets are filled with people in a tableau of routine One day, you trip on a broken road and they scream and cry You settle waist deep in their insults while Your life’s work is scattered by their stinking breaths Remember that you existed in the same place one year ago, ten years ago, etc. Escape quickly into a proliferation of momentary rooms Choose the room where you will become a corpse on a bed and Wait for your moments of anonymous sleep to gather close then expand lengthwise The people will remember you for your large nose and receding chin. |
|||
3. | - | 02:04 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
4. | A Subtle Change | 05:52 | Show lyrics |
A subtle change in the light or an abrupt noise Perhaps a word or phrase that ignites the intellect A decision made on a whim or after careful consideration The slightest incident… Any of these might be the catalyst which Starts one racing inexorably down the road with the darkest conclusion |
|||
5. | Washerwoman | 09:21 | Show lyrics |
On the other side of the glass, the night asserts its authority; but we are inside, suspended by spirits, and preserved in a healthful light that fills the room and shines out through large windows to the edge of the clearing. Twigs crack like whips as a woman emerges from the forest. She steps forth, bearing a dark cylinder; it stands in prominent contrast to her nudity as she moves into the light. The room is crowded, but I’m the only one watching as she takes the cylinder into her mouth. She smashes the window with that object. It lands at my feet—a bar of black soap, rigid and wet. The party stands transfixed as she crawls through the broken glass. The light grows dim, and with her mouth full of lather she announces, “I come from the City of Hair beyond the Wrinkled Mountain and I will not rest until I’ve washed every penis in this room.” |
|||
6. | In a Yard Somewhere | 05:45 | Show lyrics |
Unseeing Melancholy, whose vision is obstructed, but not asleep Advised a young man to inhale her bilious gas from a bottle, Whose interior is lined with mirrors. The look on his face after he breathed that vapor startled the gardener, Whose vast city of plants sustains the bees. “Reflect upon your life which is irreversible like my draft,” she said. The young man nodded, and who can describe his hope or regret that afternoon? His mouth twisted in a demure smile as if it was all a joke. The frantic gardener rushed about the yard, While the boy sat on a patch of earth near the backdoor Waiting. |
|||
7. | To Fall Down | 07:43 | Show lyrics |
____ fell into the space between thoughts His six plump breasts surged and emptied All desire and language fell away And just as he began to grow transparent The image of a cabinet occurred to him It’s open doors a symbol of inanimate mercy The temptation to struggle was rehabilitated But the cabinet soon tumbled away Pulled by the gravity of a distant stream The tips of ideas exposed in its current Like feet from under a long dress That modest glimpse of flesh which belies A profound expanse of passion Hidden in a cavern of billowing cloth And he fell and his body leaked |
|||
8. | The Most Modern Staircase | 09:48 | Show lyrics |
I traveled to the province of staircases. The great variety of balusters, railing, finials and steps filled me with awe. Many looked welcoming, while others were intentionally obscured or blocked up, and some were decorated with vibrant warnings to anyone who might ascend. I found the most modern looking staircase and climbed. After a while, I stopped on a landing to rest. This extraordinary landing was home to dozens of living statues, obsequious stone gods begging for spare hands. As I explored, a loud commotion with historic consequences occurred somewhere behind me. When I looked back, there was a curtain drawn around the event. I turned to the statues for answers, but they remained inert and silent, their jagged stumps eager for relief |
|||
54:51 |
All Fours
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Jack Shirley | Producer |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Disc 1 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | At Night | 08:21 | Show lyrics |
When she was a child, Marie decided to live her life as a horse. She greatly enjoyed her agony, but eventually the humiliations of the saddle lost their appeal. She lives with me now, in this house where every night we play the same game. It begins at dusk; Marie taunts me with her naked breasts, which hang like dazzling moons, then I dump one of our many overflowing ashtrays over her body. The ashes cling to the urine on her torn clothes forming new, amusing patterns each time. At night she reenacts scenes from her passion. She kicks and screams on all fours—her violent dressage thrills me. When she is too tired to move, I collect the bitter flakes from her head. I press against her naked body and squeeze it until she loses any remaining pretense of beauty. These acts are nauseating but necessary. |
|||
2. | The Industry of Distance | 05:57 | Show lyrics |
Observe your years of anonymous industry from a distance You exist suspended in the fumes of a postulated hell Where fatigue and despair are unchecked: The city’s streets are filled with people in a tableau of routine One day, you trip on a broken road and they scream and cry You settle waist deep in their insults while Your life’s work is scattered by their stinking breaths Remember that you existed in the same place one year ago, ten years ago, etc. Escape quickly into a proliferation of momentary rooms Choose the room where you will become a corpse on a bed and Wait for your moments of anonymous sleep to gather close then expand lengthwise The people will remember you for your large nose and receding chin. |
|||
3. | - | 02:04 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
Side B | |||
4. | A Subtle Change | 05:52 | Show lyrics |
A subtle change in the light or an abrupt noise Perhaps a word or phrase that ignites the intellect A decision made on a whim or after careful consideration The slightest incident… Any of these might be the catalyst which Starts one racing inexorably down the road with the darkest conclusion |
|||
5. | In a Yard Somewhere | 05:45 | Show lyrics |
Unseeing Melancholy, whose vision is obstructed, but not asleep Advised a young man to inhale her bilious gas from a bottle, Whose interior is lined with mirrors. The look on his face after he breathed that vapor startled the gardener, Whose vast city of plants sustains the bees. “Reflect upon your life which is irreversible like my draft,” she said. The young man nodded, and who can describe his hope or regret that afternoon? His mouth twisted in a demure smile as if it was all a joke. The frantic gardener rushed about the yard, While the boy sat on a patch of earth near the backdoor Waiting. |
|||
27:59 | |||
Disc 2 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | Washerwoman | 09:21 | Show lyrics |
On the other side of the glass, the night asserts its authority; but we are inside, suspended by spirits, and preserved in a healthful light that fills the room and shines out through large windows to the edge of the clearing. Twigs crack like whips as a woman emerges from the forest. She steps forth, bearing a dark cylinder; it stands in prominent contrast to her nudity as she moves into the light. The room is crowded, but I’m the only one watching as she takes the cylinder into her mouth. She smashes the window with that object. It lands at my feet—a bar of black soap, rigid and wet. The party stands transfixed as she crawls through the broken glass. The light grows dim, and with her mouth full of lather she announces, “I come from the City of Hair beyond the Wrinkled Mountain and I will not rest until I’ve washed every penis in this room.” |
|||
Side B | |||
2. | To Fall Down | 07:43 | Show lyrics |
____ fell into the space between thoughts His six plump breasts surged and emptied All desire and language fell away And just as he began to grow transparent The image of a cabinet occurred to him It’s open doors a symbol of inanimate mercy The temptation to struggle was rehabilitated But the cabinet soon tumbled away Pulled by the gravity of a distant stream The tips of ideas exposed in its current Like feet from under a long dress That modest glimpse of flesh which belies A profound expanse of passion Hidden in a cavern of billowing cloth And he fell and his body leaked |
|||
3. | The Most Modern Staircase | 09:48 | Show lyrics |
I traveled to the province of staircases. The great variety of balusters, railing, finials and steps filled me with awe. Many looked welcoming, while others were intentionally obscured or blocked up, and some were decorated with vibrant warnings to anyone who might ascend. I found the most modern looking staircase and climbed. After a while, I stopped on a landing to rest. This extraordinary landing was home to dozens of living statues, obsequious stone gods begging for spare hands. As I explored, a loud commotion with historic consequences occurred somewhere behind me. When I looked back, there was a curtain drawn around the event. I turned to the statues for answers, but they remained inert and silent, their jagged stumps eager for relief |
|||
26:52 |
All Fours
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
D. | Bass |
H. | Drums |
M. | Guitars |
B. | Vocals |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Jack Shirley | Producer |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Disc 1 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | At Night | 08:21 | Show lyrics |
When she was a child, Marie decided to live her life as a horse. She greatly enjoyed her agony, but eventually the humiliations of the saddle lost their appeal. She lives with me now, in this house where every night we play the same game. It begins at dusk; Marie taunts me with her naked breasts, which hang like dazzling moons, then I dump one of our many overflowing ashtrays over her body. The ashes cling to the urine on her torn clothes forming new, amusing patterns each time. At night she reenacts scenes from her passion. She kicks and screams on all fours—her violent dressage thrills me. When she is too tired to move, I collect the bitter flakes from her head. I press against her naked body and squeeze it until she loses any remaining pretense of beauty. These acts are nauseating but necessary. |
|||
2. | The Industry of Distance | 05:57 | Show lyrics |
Observe your years of anonymous industry from a distance You exist suspended in the fumes of a postulated hell Where fatigue and despair are unchecked: The city’s streets are filled with people in a tableau of routine One day, you trip on a broken road and they scream and cry You settle waist deep in their insults while Your life’s work is scattered by their stinking breaths Remember that you existed in the same place one year ago, ten years ago, etc. Escape quickly into a proliferation of momentary rooms Choose the room where you will become a corpse on a bed and Wait for your moments of anonymous sleep to gather close then expand lengthwise The people will remember you for your large nose and receding chin. |
|||
3. | - | 02:04 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
Side B | |||
4. | A Subtle Change | 05:52 | Show lyrics |
A subtle change in the light or an abrupt noise Perhaps a word or phrase that ignites the intellect A decision made on a whim or after careful consideration The slightest incident… Any of these might be the catalyst which Starts one racing inexorably down the road with the darkest conclusion |
|||
5. | In a Yard Somewhere | 05:45 | Show lyrics |
Unseeing Melancholy, whose vision is obstructed, but not asleep Advised a young man to inhale her bilious gas from a bottle, Whose interior is lined with mirrors. The look on his face after he breathed that vapor startled the gardener, Whose vast city of plants sustains the bees. “Reflect upon your life which is irreversible like my draft,” she said. The young man nodded, and who can describe his hope or regret that afternoon? His mouth twisted in a demure smile as if it was all a joke. The frantic gardener rushed about the yard, While the boy sat on a patch of earth near the backdoor Waiting. |
|||
27:59 | |||
Disc 2 | |||
Side A | |||
1. | Washerwoman | 09:21 | Show lyrics |
On the other side of the glass, the night asserts its authority; but we are inside, suspended by spirits, and preserved in a healthful light that fills the room and shines out through large windows to the edge of the clearing. Twigs crack like whips as a woman emerges from the forest. She steps forth, bearing a dark cylinder; it stands in prominent contrast to her nudity as she moves into the light. The room is crowded, but I’m the only one watching as she takes the cylinder into her mouth. She smashes the window with that object. It lands at my feet—a bar of black soap, rigid and wet. The party stands transfixed as she crawls through the broken glass. The light grows dim, and with her mouth full of lather she announces, “I come from the City of Hair beyond the Wrinkled Mountain and I will not rest until I’ve washed every penis in this room.” |
|||
Side B | |||
2. | To Fall Down | 07:43 | Show lyrics |
____ fell into the space between thoughts His six plump breasts surged and emptied All desire and language fell away And just as he began to grow transparent The image of a cabinet occurred to him It’s open doors a symbol of inanimate mercy The temptation to struggle was rehabilitated But the cabinet soon tumbled away Pulled by the gravity of a distant stream The tips of ideas exposed in its current Like feet from under a long dress That modest glimpse of flesh which belies A profound expanse of passion Hidden in a cavern of billowing cloth And he fell and his body leaked |
|||
3. | The Most Modern Staircase | 09:48 | Show lyrics |
I traveled to the province of staircases. The great variety of balusters, railing, finials and steps filled me with awe. Many looked welcoming, while others were intentionally obscured or blocked up, and some were decorated with vibrant warnings to anyone who might ascend. I found the most modern looking staircase and climbed. After a while, I stopped on a landing to rest. This extraordinary landing was home to dozens of living statues, obsequious stone gods begging for spare hands. As I explored, a loud commotion with historic consequences occurred somewhere behind me. When I looked back, there was a curtain drawn around the event. I turned to the statues for answers, but they remained inert and silent, their jagged stumps eager for relief |
|||
26:52 |
Further Still
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Side A | |||
1. | The Trench | 05:10 | Show lyrics |
Every day is the same; we get up at sunrise and begin our work on The Trench. Since we all sleep together there’s hardly any wasted time, we just stand up and stretch a little as we eat, then get to digging. All day long we dig, shoveling the dirt back over our shoulders at a furious pace. The completed portion of The Trench—our life’s work—extends in a perfectly straight line behind us. It reaches across the barren, almost featureless landscape all the way to the horizon. But there aren’t many opportunities to turn around and look because we’re so busy digging. Those of us in good physical condition perform the most rigorous tasks, like picking at the obstinate ground or hauling dirt away from the excavation. The rest do what we can to sweep the dust into little piles and maintain the precise shape of The Trench. Once I’m too old to perform even these simple functions my only value will be of the nutritive sort. When that day comes I’ll wait until it’s dark and try to sneak off down The Trench, though it’s unlikely that I’ll make it very far. | |||
2. | Down Here | 03:48 | Show lyrics |
I am old and filthy. My body is rotten. The disfiguration of my physique is so advanced that my appearance is practically unimaginable. Although my life began in a pit, a structure was erected above me many years ago. Now I dwell in its basement. Nobody comes to see me. Rats and insects are my only companions. They tell me that the creators of the building under which I reside have sealed me in. I do not loathe them for this act, even though they replaced my once soft floor with a slab of concrete. Besides myself, the basement is totally empty. It is dark and musty. It serves no purpose. And yet the entire world is down here, the whole universe. |
|||
3. | Crux | 03:57 | Show lyrics |
At the end of a hallway there are two closed doors which face each other. Between them, on a small table against the wall, the soft radiance of a lamp hollows out the gloom of that windowless region. It is known that the door to the left opens on a closet filled with junk, a collection of detritus so high and dense that it might never be explored completely. The other door leads to a room wherein dwells an accretion of loathsome utterances. But the crux of the matter is not to be found in the contents of the rooms or the doors, nor in the lamp or the hallway itself. No, the main thing is that I predicted them all. This place and its objects are exactly as they should be. | |||
4. | Listless | 04:17 | Show lyrics |
There is an unpleasant sensation Which comes about when one has Stayed in the same place for too long It is something like that revulsion we feel When a coalition of tiny red spiders Settles at the back of our throat All they want is a nice place to inhabit So we ignore them for a time Even though their presence is intolerable At some point, after many generations Have lived and died back there The stupidity of our inaction becomes apparent How idiotic it was to let them stay And for so long at that Then at the meridian of our disgust That fecund clot is ejected and The resulting emptiness begets a dull ache A listlessness which blooms in their absence |
|||
5. | Dolorous Interlude | 03:52 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
Side B | |||
6. | My Shroud | 06:23 | Show lyrics |
I was born dressed in a shroud, and I have been wearing it ever since. I will die wearing it. It is an astonishing thing to imagine, an infant emerging from the womb already clothed. Yet nobody present at my birth seemed to notice, nor has anyone brought it up since then. My shroud is made from a remarkable material. The fabric is so finely woven that it is not visible to the human eye—not even I can see it. But I assure you it’s there, draped over my shoulders just as always. Over the years my shroud has grown considerably, so that I must drag a long sheet of cloth behind me wherever I go. Its weight is immense, and neither encouraging words nor wine can mitigate the burden. Like I said, I will die wearing my shroud. What I am just now able to admit is that my death will be a result of it. |
|||
7. | Sword Swallower | 04:20 | Show lyrics |
Before the Sword Swallower took the stage, his assistant rolled out a cart arrayed with a variety of small objects. Then the great showman himself emerged, bearing the implement of his trade. His blade was so long that, while he held it straight, it arched back with the tip hovering just above his scalp. The audience laughed, for nobody believed it possible that such a weapon might ever be consumed. But all at once the Sword Swallower threw back his head and thrust the blade upward, forcing its point down his throat. He compelled it in some ingenious way until nearly the whole length had disappeared. Certain members of that breathless crowd might have seen the look of ecstasy which washed over the sword swallower’s face at that moment. As he drove the last of it down, the tip emerged from his antipodal orifice. He turned around so that everyone could see it protruding from the back of his pants. The sharp edge glittered under the heavy lights. Then the sword swallower shuffled over to the little cart where he proceeded to slice up the objects one at a time, amidst a standing ovation. | |||
8. | Vestiges | 05:03 | Show lyrics |
All of a sudden, during a brief hesitation in their game, one of the children screamed. It was a singular utterance as abrupt and violent as a sneeze, yet resounding enough to rattle the walls. The others huddled together in the far corner of the room and sat watching in mute awe as the strange cry reverberated around them. The whole house trembled for several long minutes. Gradually the shaking dwindled to a slight, moribund vibration; and the remnants of that scream—its vestiges which still ricocheted softly within the interstices of the house—began to emerge after a while in a series of plump, colorless disks. The disks joined together one after the other until they formed a slender cord that resembled a rat’s tail. It twisted there briefly like a ribbon in the wind, then flew away in an instant, leaving a trail of echoes. | |||
9. | A Faraway Place | 06:53 | Show lyrics |
It wasn’t until we reached the third reality that I became truly convinced by the primitive, angular landscape which had begun to materialize around us from the moment we set out. Deep down I knew it was false, but we’d traveled far enough to confuse my senses for a while. We trod upon a narrow path that meandered through a forest dense with suicides. Legions of putrid limbs brushed against us as we struggled to reach the other side. Finally we emerged on a level plain and stopped to rest. With the dimensionless sky pressing down on us, we swallowed the fraudulent air of that faraway place. In the distance a convoy of figures approached. They crossed a river of geometric gore, then passed us without greeting. Silently they marched in our tracks back into that terrible wood, and with renewed purpose we followed their trail across the plain. Soon we’d traveled so far West that we were East again. I turned to you and shrugged before we continued further still. |
|||
43:43 |
Further Still
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
Side A | |||
1. | The Trench | 05:10 | Show lyrics |
Every day is the same; we get up at sunrise and begin our work on The Trench. Since we all sleep together there’s hardly any wasted time, we just stand up and stretch a little as we eat, then get to digging. All day long we dig, shoveling the dirt back over our shoulders at a furious pace. The completed portion of The Trench—our life’s work—extends in a perfectly straight line behind us. It reaches across the barren, almost featureless landscape all the way to the horizon. But there aren’t many opportunities to turn around and look because we’re so busy digging. Those of us in good physical condition perform the most rigorous tasks, like picking at the obstinate ground or hauling dirt away from the excavation. The rest do what we can to sweep the dust into little piles and maintain the precise shape of The Trench. Once I’m too old to perform even these simple functions my only value will be of the nutritive sort. When that day comes I’ll wait until it’s dark and try to sneak off down The Trench, though it’s unlikely that I’ll make it very far. | |||
2. | Down Here | 03:48 | Show lyrics |
I am old and filthy. My body is rotten. The disfiguration of my physique is so advanced that my appearance is practically unimaginable. Although my life began in a pit, a structure was erected above me many years ago. Now I dwell in its basement. Nobody comes to see me. Rats and insects are my only companions. They tell me that the creators of the building under which I reside have sealed me in. I do not loathe them for this act, even though they replaced my once soft floor with a slab of concrete. Besides myself, the basement is totally empty. It is dark and musty. It serves no purpose. And yet the entire world is down here, the whole universe. |
|||
3. | Crux | 03:57 | Show lyrics |
At the end of a hallway there are two closed doors which face each other. Between them, on a small table against the wall, the soft radiance of a lamp hollows out the gloom of that windowless region. It is known that the door to the left opens on a closet filled with junk, a collection of detritus so high and dense that it might never be explored completely. The other door leads to a room wherein dwells an accretion of loathsome utterances. But the crux of the matter is not to be found in the contents of the rooms or the doors, nor in the lamp or the hallway itself. No, the main thing is that I predicted them all. This place and its objects are exactly as they should be. | |||
4. | Listless | 04:17 | Show lyrics |
There is an unpleasant sensation Which comes about when one has Stayed in the same place for too long It is something like that revulsion we feel When a coalition of tiny red spiders Settles at the back of our throat All they want is a nice place to inhabit So we ignore them for a time Even though their presence is intolerable At some point, after many generations Have lived and died back there The stupidity of our inaction becomes apparent How idiotic it was to let them stay And for so long at that Then at the meridian of our disgust That fecund clot is ejected and The resulting emptiness begets a dull ache A listlessness which blooms in their absence |
|||
5. | Dolorous Interlude | 03:52 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
Side B | |||
6. | My Shroud | 06:23 | Show lyrics |
I was born dressed in a shroud, and I have been wearing it ever since. I will die wearing it. It is an astonishing thing to imagine, an infant emerging from the womb already clothed. Yet nobody present at my birth seemed to notice, nor has anyone brought it up since then. My shroud is made from a remarkable material. The fabric is so finely woven that it is not visible to the human eye—not even I can see it. But I assure you it’s there, draped over my shoulders just as always. Over the years my shroud has grown considerably, so that I must drag a long sheet of cloth behind me wherever I go. Its weight is immense, and neither encouraging words nor wine can mitigate the burden. Like I said, I will die wearing my shroud. What I am just now able to admit is that my death will be a result of it. |
|||
7. | Sword Swallower | 04:20 | Show lyrics |
Before the Sword Swallower took the stage, his assistant rolled out a cart arrayed with a variety of small objects. Then the great showman himself emerged, bearing the implement of his trade. His blade was so long that, while he held it straight, it arched back with the tip hovering just above his scalp. The audience laughed, for nobody believed it possible that such a weapon might ever be consumed. But all at once the Sword Swallower threw back his head and thrust the blade upward, forcing its point down his throat. He compelled it in some ingenious way until nearly the whole length had disappeared. Certain members of that breathless crowd might have seen the look of ecstasy which washed over the sword swallower’s face at that moment. As he drove the last of it down, the tip emerged from his antipodal orifice. He turned around so that everyone could see it protruding from the back of his pants. The sharp edge glittered under the heavy lights. Then the sword swallower shuffled over to the little cart where he proceeded to slice up the objects one at a time, amidst a standing ovation. | |||
8. | Vestiges | 05:03 | Show lyrics |
All of a sudden, during a brief hesitation in their game, one of the children screamed. It was a singular utterance as abrupt and violent as a sneeze, yet resounding enough to rattle the walls. The others huddled together in the far corner of the room and sat watching in mute awe as the strange cry reverberated around them. The whole house trembled for several long minutes. Gradually the shaking dwindled to a slight, moribund vibration; and the remnants of that scream—its vestiges which still ricocheted softly within the interstices of the house—began to emerge after a while in a series of plump, colorless disks. The disks joined together one after the other until they formed a slender cord that resembled a rat’s tail. It twisted there briefly like a ribbon in the wind, then flew away in an instant, leaving a trail of echoes. | |||
9. | A Faraway Place | 06:53 | Show lyrics |
It wasn’t until we reached the third reality that I became truly convinced by the primitive, angular landscape which had begun to materialize around us from the moment we set out. Deep down I knew it was false, but we’d traveled far enough to confuse my senses for a while. We trod upon a narrow path that meandered through a forest dense with suicides. Legions of putrid limbs brushed against us as we struggled to reach the other side. Finally we emerged on a level plain and stopped to rest. With the dimensionless sky pressing down on us, we swallowed the fraudulent air of that faraway place. In the distance a convoy of figures approached. They crossed a river of geometric gore, then passed us without greeting. Silently they marched in our tracks back into that terrible wood, and with renewed purpose we followed their trail across the plain. Soon we’d traveled so far West that we were East again. I turned to you and shrugged before we continued further still. |
|||
43:43 |
Further Still
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | The Trench | 05:10 | Show lyrics |
Every day is the same; we get up at sunrise and begin our work on The Trench. Since we all sleep together there’s hardly any wasted time, we just stand up and stretch a little as we eat, then get to digging. All day long we dig, shoveling the dirt back over our shoulders at a furious pace. The completed portion of The Trench—our life’s work—extends in a perfectly straight line behind us. It reaches across the barren, almost featureless landscape all the way to the horizon. But there aren’t many opportunities to turn around and look because we’re so busy digging. Those of us in good physical condition perform the most rigorous tasks, like picking at the obstinate ground or hauling dirt away from the excavation. The rest do what we can to sweep the dust into little piles and maintain the precise shape of The Trench. Once I’m too old to perform even these simple functions my only value will be of the nutritive sort. When that day comes I’ll wait until it’s dark and try to sneak off down The Trench, though it’s unlikely that I’ll make it very far. | |||
2. | Down Here | 03:48 | Show lyrics |
I am old and filthy. My body is rotten. The disfiguration of my physique is so advanced that my appearance is practically unimaginable. Although my life began in a pit, a structure was erected above me many years ago. Now I dwell in its basement. Nobody comes to see me. Rats and insects are my only companions. They tell me that the creators of the building under which I reside have sealed me in. I do not loathe them for this act, even though they replaced my once soft floor with a slab of concrete. Besides myself, the basement is totally empty. It is dark and musty. It serves no purpose. And yet the entire world is down here, the whole universe. |
|||
3. | Crux | 03:57 | Show lyrics |
At the end of a hallway there are two closed doors which face each other. Between them, on a small table against the wall, the soft radiance of a lamp hollows out the gloom of that windowless region. It is known that the door to the left opens on a closet filled with junk, a collection of detritus so high and dense that it might never be explored completely. The other door leads to a room wherein dwells an accretion of loathsome utterances. But the crux of the matter is not to be found in the contents of the rooms or the doors, nor in the lamp or the hallway itself. No, the main thing is that I predicted them all. This place and its objects are exactly as they should be. | |||
4. | Listless | 04:17 | Show lyrics |
There is an unpleasant sensation Which comes about when one has Stayed in the same place for too long It is something like that revulsion we feel When a coalition of tiny red spiders Settles at the back of our throat All they want is a nice place to inhabit So we ignore them for a time Even though their presence is intolerable At some point, after many generations Have lived and died back there The stupidity of our inaction becomes apparent How idiotic it was to let them stay And for so long at that Then at the meridian of our disgust That fecund clot is ejected and The resulting emptiness begets a dull ache A listlessness which blooms in their absence |
|||
5. | Dolorous Interlude | 03:52 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
6. | My Shroud | 06:23 | Show lyrics |
I was born dressed in a shroud, and I have been wearing it ever since. I will die wearing it. It is an astonishing thing to imagine, an infant emerging from the womb already clothed. Yet nobody present at my birth seemed to notice, nor has anyone brought it up since then. My shroud is made from a remarkable material. The fabric is so finely woven that it is not visible to the human eye—not even I can see it. But I assure you it’s there, draped over my shoulders just as always. Over the years my shroud has grown considerably, so that I must drag a long sheet of cloth behind me wherever I go. Its weight is immense, and neither encouraging words nor wine can mitigate the burden. Like I said, I will die wearing my shroud. What I am just now able to admit is that my death will be a result of it. |
|||
7. | Sword Swallower | 04:20 | Show lyrics |
Before the Sword Swallower took the stage, his assistant rolled out a cart arrayed with a variety of small objects. Then the great showman himself emerged, bearing the implement of his trade. His blade was so long that, while he held it straight, it arched back with the tip hovering just above his scalp. The audience laughed, for nobody believed it possible that such a weapon might ever be consumed. But all at once the Sword Swallower threw back his head and thrust the blade upward, forcing its point down his throat. He compelled it in some ingenious way until nearly the whole length had disappeared. Certain members of that breathless crowd might have seen the look of ecstasy which washed over the sword swallower’s face at that moment. As he drove the last of it down, the tip emerged from his antipodal orifice. He turned around so that everyone could see it protruding from the back of his pants. The sharp edge glittered under the heavy lights. Then the sword swallower shuffled over to the little cart where he proceeded to slice up the objects one at a time, amidst a standing ovation. | |||
8. | Vestiges | 05:03 | Show lyrics |
All of a sudden, during a brief hesitation in their game, one of the children screamed. It was a singular utterance as abrupt and violent as a sneeze, yet resounding enough to rattle the walls. The others huddled together in the far corner of the room and sat watching in mute awe as the strange cry reverberated around them. The whole house trembled for several long minutes. Gradually the shaking dwindled to a slight, moribund vibration; and the remnants of that scream—its vestiges which still ricocheted softly within the interstices of the house—began to emerge after a while in a series of plump, colorless disks. The disks joined together one after the other until they formed a slender cord that resembled a rat’s tail. It twisted there briefly like a ribbon in the wind, then flew away in an instant, leaving a trail of echoes. | |||
9. | A Faraway Place | 06:53 | Show lyrics |
It wasn’t until we reached the third reality that I became truly convinced by the primitive, angular landscape which had begun to materialize around us from the moment we set out. Deep down I knew it was false, but we’d traveled far enough to confuse my senses for a while. We trod upon a narrow path that meandered through a forest dense with suicides. Legions of putrid limbs brushed against us as we struggled to reach the other side. Finally we emerged on a level plain and stopped to rest. With the dimensionless sky pressing down on us, we swallowed the fraudulent air of that faraway place. In the distance a convoy of figures approached. They crossed a river of geometric gore, then passed us without greeting. Silently they marched in our tracks back into that terrible wood, and with renewed purpose we followed their trail across the plain. Soon we’d traveled so far West that we were East again. I turned to you and shrugged before we continued further still. |
|||
43:43 |
Further Still
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | The Trench | 05:10 | Show lyrics |
Every day is the same; we get up at sunrise and begin our work on The Trench. Since we all sleep together there’s hardly any wasted time, we just stand up and stretch a little as we eat, then get to digging. All day long we dig, shoveling the dirt back over our shoulders at a furious pace. The completed portion of The Trench—our life’s work—extends in a perfectly straight line behind us. It reaches across the barren, almost featureless landscape all the way to the horizon. But there aren’t many opportunities to turn around and look because we’re so busy digging. Those of us in good physical condition perform the most rigorous tasks, like picking at the obstinate ground or hauling dirt away from the excavation. The rest do what we can to sweep the dust into little piles and maintain the precise shape of The Trench. Once I’m too old to perform even these simple functions my only value will be of the nutritive sort. When that day comes I’ll wait until it’s dark and try to sneak off down The Trench, though it’s unlikely that I’ll make it very far. | |||
2. | Down Here | 03:48 | Show lyrics |
I am old and filthy. My body is rotten. The disfiguration of my physique is so advanced that my appearance is practically unimaginable. Although my life began in a pit, a structure was erected above me many years ago. Now I dwell in its basement. Nobody comes to see me. Rats and insects are my only companions. They tell me that the creators of the building under which I reside have sealed me in. I do not loathe them for this act, even though they replaced my once soft floor with a slab of concrete. Besides myself, the basement is totally empty. It is dark and musty. It serves no purpose. And yet the entire world is down here, the whole universe. |
|||
3. | Crux | 03:57 | Show lyrics |
At the end of a hallway there are two closed doors which face each other. Between them, on a small table against the wall, the soft radiance of a lamp hollows out the gloom of that windowless region. It is known that the door to the left opens on a closet filled with junk, a collection of detritus so high and dense that it might never be explored completely. The other door leads to a room wherein dwells an accretion of loathsome utterances. But the crux of the matter is not to be found in the contents of the rooms or the doors, nor in the lamp or the hallway itself. No, the main thing is that I predicted them all. This place and its objects are exactly as they should be. | |||
4. | Listless | 04:17 | Show lyrics |
There is an unpleasant sensation Which comes about when one has Stayed in the same place for too long It is something like that revulsion we feel When a coalition of tiny red spiders Settles at the back of our throat All they want is a nice place to inhabit So we ignore them for a time Even though their presence is intolerable At some point, after many generations Have lived and died back there The stupidity of our inaction becomes apparent How idiotic it was to let them stay And for so long at that Then at the meridian of our disgust That fecund clot is ejected and The resulting emptiness begets a dull ache A listlessness which blooms in their absence |
|||
5. | Dolorous Interlude | 03:52 | |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
6. | My Shroud | 06:23 | Show lyrics |
I was born dressed in a shroud, and I have been wearing it ever since. I will die wearing it. It is an astonishing thing to imagine, an infant emerging from the womb already clothed. Yet nobody present at my birth seemed to notice, nor has anyone brought it up since then. My shroud is made from a remarkable material. The fabric is so finely woven that it is not visible to the human eye—not even I can see it. But I assure you it’s there, draped over my shoulders just as always. Over the years my shroud has grown considerably, so that I must drag a long sheet of cloth behind me wherever I go. Its weight is immense, and neither encouraging words nor wine can mitigate the burden. Like I said, I will die wearing my shroud. What I am just now able to admit is that my death will be a result of it. |
|||
7. | Sword Swallower | 04:20 | Show lyrics |
Before the Sword Swallower took the stage, his assistant rolled out a cart arrayed with a variety of small objects. Then the great showman himself emerged, bearing the implement of his trade. His blade was so long that, while he held it straight, it arched back with the tip hovering just above his scalp. The audience laughed, for nobody believed it possible that such a weapon might ever be consumed. But all at once the Sword Swallower threw back his head and thrust the blade upward, forcing its point down his throat. He compelled it in some ingenious way until nearly the whole length had disappeared. Certain members of that breathless crowd might have seen the look of ecstasy which washed over the sword swallower’s face at that moment. As he drove the last of it down, the tip emerged from his antipodal orifice. He turned around so that everyone could see it protruding from the back of his pants. The sharp edge glittered under the heavy lights. Then the sword swallower shuffled over to the little cart where he proceeded to slice up the objects one at a time, amidst a standing ovation. | |||
8. | Vestiges | 05:03 | Show lyrics |
All of a sudden, during a brief hesitation in their game, one of the children screamed. It was a singular utterance as abrupt and violent as a sneeze, yet resounding enough to rattle the walls. The others huddled together in the far corner of the room and sat watching in mute awe as the strange cry reverberated around them. The whole house trembled for several long minutes. Gradually the shaking dwindled to a slight, moribund vibration; and the remnants of that scream—its vestiges which still ricocheted softly within the interstices of the house—began to emerge after a while in a series of plump, colorless disks. The disks joined together one after the other until they formed a slender cord that resembled a rat’s tail. It twisted there briefly like a ribbon in the wind, then flew away in an instant, leaving a trail of echoes. | |||
9. | A Faraway Place | 06:53 | Show lyrics |
It wasn’t until we reached the third reality that I became truly convinced by the primitive, angular landscape which had begun to materialize around us from the moment we set out. Deep down I knew it was false, but we’d traveled far enough to confuse my senses for a while. We trod upon a narrow path that meandered through a forest dense with suicides. Legions of putrid limbs brushed against us as we struggled to reach the other side. Finally we emerged on a level plain and stopped to rest. With the dimensionless sky pressing down on us, we swallowed the fraudulent air of that faraway place. In the distance a convoy of figures approached. They crossed a river of geometric gore, then passed us without greeting. Silently they marched in our tracks back into that terrible wood, and with renewed purpose we followed their trail across the plain. Soon we’d traveled so far West that we were East again. I turned to you and shrugged before we continued further still. |
|||
43:43 |
Band ascii art
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