1. |
Poor Man's Lullaby
04:25
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This is a perverse state we are in my friends.
This life of ours concedes no ends, except the last one,
And we scramble towards the finish line, only to find
that it was all a waste of time.
But in the meantime, we will carve the world into a mess,
and sell the pieces by the pound. So we can buy our dolls,
and stick needles in their senseless eyes,
Only to find that they could see the whole damned time.
So what do we tell the little ones when they ask us how to behave?
Do we lie, and lie some more, or de we tell them that we are depraved?
With a fool's face strapped tight against my troubled head,
I will just dance each night away.
And I'll never let myself be taken by the awful truth
that no good could ever come from you.
But I suppose it ain't so sad. The earth don't feel a thing,
She just laughs as we try to sing.
And when we go to sleep, our demons will be dead at sea,
and what little pain was felt will cease to be.
So what do we tell the little ones when they ask us how to behave?
Yes we lie, and we lie some more, and we tell them to run off and play.
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2. |
Binocular Fix
03:31
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Against a single looking glass, two worn and weary eyes will press their unsubstantial weight,
Their worth measured by what they will erase through the single heart's gaze.
All that is not contained within this binocular fix will be misplaced by the wind.
So go on and lose us all with grace and tuck yourself in.
oooo but maybe we only miss the shows we were never meant to see to begin with.
Maybe the heart is an amber lens that will cradle us in time.
Don't you think so? Don't you hope so?
If we've all got to crawl like bugs, lets at least wrap ourselves in love,
And as we tread our thin red lines, we will be baited by the right hooks.
This silly life is a single thread that was spun long before you were.
It has been cast out, it has been reeled in, and it will never cease its work.
So sow your stitches into the gown in which us cast away ones will drown.
And as you send me to sleep, won't you sing me something soft and sweet,
About nothing, about everything, about all that lies in-between.
And I will answer with my own song that makes no goddamn sense at all,
But thats okay, if you think its pretty. That's the only sense that'll break our fall.
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3. |
Spook
03:50
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4. |
Down Green River
03:58
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Hollowed structures are all that remain
of Lester's legacy, the arbitrary name.
Men and their money would find their way,
and along fresh tracks came their thunderous trains
of greed and erasure. Those ill-fated trees
were just there to please them.
And so another moth-balled village
would spill into waters that drowned future daughters.
Down green river there's a hungry man
who hates what he loves and he loves with his hands.
This sometimes proselytizer became the incognito deviser
of too many clusters of mossy graves, where his dolls lay sprawled in mannequin displays.
For 20 years he had his way. You sick bed wetter, you'd better have been ashamed.
But if you were not, if by then you were too far gone,
We'll just blame it on your mother and her violent baths, and the wounded little boy
who ignited your murderous wrath.
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5. |
Spectrophobe
05:08
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Blank page, won't you tell me what to write?
The inkwell in this cage is starting to dry.
And I've been beating the same horse
with the inherited whips I tore from the hands of the masters.
But now it's bleeding faster and faster…
I can't do this like I could before.
My eyes are stuck looking at the back door,
And I keep sinking into the house,
The blood keeps spilling from the horses mouth.
It will be recycled,
It will spill again and again and again.
With my back to the mirror, I will march in place
With my face to the mirror, I will never let my scars be erased.
I am a hollow son, like all us I am filled by the reflected one.
I'm damned if I look, damned if I don't.
Nothing stinks like the sight of your thoughts
Once they break free from the grip of your jaw.
They settle into their dank graves
beneath the rude reflections
splattered along this hallway of glass walls.
I can't take this like I could before.
I'm losing sight of the pulsing, beating breathing source.
With my back to the mirror, I will march in place
With my face to the mirror, I will never let my scars be erased.
You are a hollow son, like all us you are filled by the reflected ones.
You're damned if you look, damned if you don't.
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6. |
Frame the Kid
04:58
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frame the kid
give him a name
from which he can hang
frame the kid
give him a name
that will tempt him this way
he deserves whatever he gets,
even if he is innocent,
he's had it coming ever since he opened his mouth
and already they're singing their psalms
for the boy with the nails in his palms
but he's had it coming ever since he opened his mouth
we are all bad
that's how i know he is
and it is so sad
that they hung their hopes on him
nothing will save him from the flames, his fate has been engraved in his skin
and he's just walking the plank towards the miserable depths from which he came
even the crimes that remain in his mind will still do him in
and the poor little lamb will have to contend with a god against whom he didn't know he had sinned
just like the rest of us all he will spend his days asking how it could happen like this
that one little sin over time could result in the fall of us all
what a fucked scheme it is.
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7. |
Wanker
03:49
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Oh so regrettable,
This life is oh so regrettable.
I am here to make mistakes
and miss my mark on the single take.
My bed is a hermetic tomb of dumb ideas and wicked truths
and a couple of of jiz stains…God bless these sheets that conceal my perverted ways.
Oh so forgettable,
This time is oh so forgettable.
My best attempts to wrench you
are thwarted by a fist that would not clench.
It would be sad if it wasn't so funny.
And I would laugh if I wasn't trying to be serious.
It would be awful if it wasn't so pretty,
And I would cry all the time if I had more love in me.
It would be manageable if it wasn't so stupid.
But I wouldn't sing along if I had not given in.
So hate me with pity!
I am a useless sieve, can't separate the blood from the shit...
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8. |
Creature Comforts
03:29
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In due time, we will all be faced with the truth of it.
No woman or child will we spared from the sinking ship.
All of the trifling things we've assembled will turn into sand, and trickle through our withered hands as we attempt to make sense of what no one will ever be able to fully grasp.
But pay no mind to this sordid situation. These bones are wired to expect just one sensation.
Yes, fill me up with joy, I can take no more of this sad education.
Leave me be with my toys. Bring your troubles to someone who can take them.
Tell me, what is your drug of choice? Please tell me what is your drug of choice?
We're getting bored with this same sad noise, yea we're getting bored with this same sad noise.
These pills don't do it for me like they used to, and this new shit doesn't do it for me like it used to.
But that is okay. I will find a new high.
My body is a temple, but these sins are divine
And I will curse any God who denies me my fun,
these creature comforts are all I've got to hang my head on.
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9. |
Messy
05:06
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Honey I'm a mess of a man.
Every night I unwind with a bottle in my hand,
And when I reach the bottom, I just wallow in my shit,
And pretend that all the thinking will amend my sad predicament.
How are we supposed to do this…
How are we supposed to do this…
Honey I would love you if I only knew how.
I'm a craven little lover, getting hurt just ain't allowed.
So I bottle up my heart and watch it bounce against the glass,
Until it can't, and so it spills the blood it should have spent on you.
How am I supposed to do this…
How the hell am I supposed to do this…
When it hurts so bad,
And I can't even speak without regretting what I've said.
I've torn up my brain looking for an answer, but I swear,
It isn't there, it isn't there,
It isn't anywhere.
Honey I have got some pretty big plans that'll finally shake me out of my immobile trance.
But once I get to thinking, nothing ever seems to move, and those plans turn into sunken ships
Far too soon.
How are we supposed to do this for so long…
How are we supposed to do this for so long…
Honey I am scared to death of death, and death alone.
Every day is just another step closer to my stone.
And every time I wake up with a pain not felt before,
My morbid rumination is confirmed, oh yes,
We're going over board.
How are we supposed to do this for so long…
How have our parents done this for so long…
When it hurts so bad,
And I can't even speak without regretting what I've said.
I've torn up my heart looking for the real me, but I swear,
He isn't there, he isn't there,
He isn't anywhere.
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10. |
Null
02:14
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:-|
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11. |
Funeral Games
05:16
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Time breaks the heart into innumerable pieces. Each one floats on its very own.
But the boys who stare into the setting sun are blinded, so they see all the pieces as a whole.
They gave the myth a name of its very, own and they filled their hungry husks with souls.
At first, it was cute, the little brutes had discovered themselves, and a dead man stared at a shadowy wall.
But the temporal curse did not abate, in fact it only got worse,
until one day, they awoke to a stranger's face.
Hangmen die long before their graves are dug.
I know, I've yet to dig mine and here I am.
Tie me tight and let me swing, my gaping mouth will blink,
and the blanks will be filled with my ink.
Now each little heart string winds along a thickening rope that ties the dock to the countless boats.
And we rock and we sway with the waves, but we never lose our hold. Love is the one thing that will never grow old.
And if its true that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, then maybe my take was just a watt too dark.
Maybe we are not souls, but just a bundle of disparate ones. A single point is infinitely dark.
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Xander Whistler Los Angeles, California
Xander Whistler is an LA based singer-songwriter and producer.
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