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1. |
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I don’t normally have fun at this kind of thing
As my ears ring,
The girl in front of us,
cradling her phone .35π radians from horizontal, held way above her head,
Is filming the whole thing
in an onslaught of snippets sent to every acquaintance
on an infinite friends-list
And I try, but I’m too brittle to look past it
I leave the show, still kind of pissed
The music is never worth it
I don’t normally have fun at these kinds of things
(I know it’s pathetic to be singing about it)
With straight guys in baseball caps turning at least every 17th onset
(By my estimate)
To chat with their partner, blocking my view,
And I suddenly reach the truth:
That I can only really go on with my life
If I can finally tell you,
Yeah, if I can finally tell all of you
That I hate you!
I don’t normally have fun at this kind of thing
Even when the scene is affirming
I start ruminating,
They’re pulling off that look much better than me, don’t you think?
And you beautiful people don’t deserve to be exposed to whatever psychic disaster I’m circling
Even when I can’t help but grinning at the flickering impermanence of everything
I start imagining myself as an evil alien mollusk or something
And whatever slippery beautiful 20-something guy that’s pogo-dancing
In front of me
Well, he’ll live rent-free in my brain as I space out as a stranger in the room I should be dancing in
Getting out of step again
The misanthrope stumbling inside my head
Poisoned by property damage
And flickering screens of carnage
Has finally evolved
Into a stronger and less humorous misanthrope.
Fueled by this human-hating machine that can only be allayed at a punk show
But everyone is dancing to a different kind of music right now now,
I know, I know, I know,
So if you could just lead me into what ever naive state of mind I’d need
to not be enraged at the people all around me
I’d fall in love with you forever!
I don’t normally have fun at this kind of thing,
I don’t normally have fun at the kind of thing,
I’m trying not to hate everyone who showed up to this thing,
I’m trying not to hate everyone again.
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2. |
Swift Wheel Reverse
03:17
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Something I was supposed to see through
Claiming I was trying to be honest
To people who assumed I'd only lie
To try to stay alive
But that's a lie, too
Ooh, with futures burned in coups
I stopped treating an existential crisis like a fresh start
And you’d pour out a sour-tongued review
Treating all my friends like they're garbage pieces of art
Things I was supposed to see through
Bias bleeds away my religiosity
Ooh, horizontal, and half nude
You left me drifting away from your social circles and drifting apart
Like a glorious piece of art
At least I saw myself that way
Tracking out into swooping oblivion
To keep the nihilists at bay
With cinematography
And dishonesty I was supposed to undo
Getting lost in the forest
I see you in a clearing
But my mind is ever fixed on The Apocalypse, ever nearing
My lips drying seconds after I dip them into the morning dew
Ooh, embodying everything I never knew
I must have been The Fool, my visage searing
Ooh, effeminate and askew
I stand alone
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3. |
Stares into Glass
01:49
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(instrumental)
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4. |
Willow Tree Hair
02:35
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With willow tree hair and thrift store drag
Staring at the bags under my eyes
I descend into an inquisitive disguise
Tenuously hiding laid prone on a trampoline
With sunglasses on my entrance into the scene
Thrown into your dance of echoes
The avatar of rum stepped on my toes
I was surprised none of you apologized
And cast away, what was I supposed to say?
I just let it all decay
Walked away but kept looking back.
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5. |
Past Sign Foldback
05:23
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I burn out before the middle of the day
Not eating and playing too quietly for anyone to hear me
Start catching fire in a brand new place...
What was I supposed to say?
You keep going until 4 am
With the drums at your back and a volume knob — and a volume knob in both hands
Staring up at the spaces that I’d pretend not to have forgotten
Until you barely see my face
My brain gets more unaligned [sic]
Repeated juggling of metaphors for the architecture of my mind
And I get behind on work
So you decide to stop by and try to do something to help me survive
But I can already fucking survive
My soul turns nocturnal one last time… one last, one last, one last time
Don’t let them know the morning-glory-standing-meditating-queer patterns that live inside!
Glowing and walking under late lanterns with a bewildered smile
Showing how much liquor I once knew how to handle but was trying not to be controlled by
Blaming someone else for the weird sense of time
On the run from bare honesty with a heftier excuse and a better fine
And I remember how to stop myself from crying
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6. |
I Stood Alone
02:08
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I stood alone
By the lakeside
You had run ahead of me
The smell of decaying fish poisoning my pace
I finally found it there
True lonely peace, face to face
With being alone
My feet firm on the ground
I stood alone
For many years
You had drifted away from me
Or maybe I never even really made it clear that I cared
I found that every truth
Found through immediate experience
Soon decayed
And my solitude reeked like dead fish
But now I stand alone
On crushed snow
Two coyotes stare at me
They back away as I move towards them
Down the hill, a third lies dead
I couldn’t bear to look at her
I try to find it again
With my feet firm on the ground
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Missing Tone Circuit Minneapolis, Minnesota
A musical project by Adam Smart. Generally in the shape of dense textures of space-rock or else symphony-band instruments in
an attempt to communicate sadness, identity crisis, disconnection, or more importantly, the overcoming of those things. Otherwise all bets are off re: genre, quality, realism, and editorial polish.
Is it [Missing Tone] Circuit or Missing [Tone Circuit], anyways?
... more
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