1. |
Dry Swift Horse
04:50
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|
She’s walking through the turnstile and she’s doing it again. The trenches in autumn made me think of myself better. The situation is tender and mild, again, not much longer. Unless of course a dry swift horse gives me the room to spit all over your shoes.
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2. |
The Gift
01:49
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|
Brushing your hair, lord can’t know what troubles are lying there. A secure connection, lord can’t cut a knot with his cure. Upturned in the light on the road. Lower your left shoulder, a gift of legless time.
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3. |
78
02:19
|
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|
New technicians, ancient concept, new technicians, electric position. Wants other words to make a place not long after. The world on fire no one could save me but you. This is what you’ll get in naming the flat land.
|
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4. |
North
03:37
|
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|
--
|
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5. |
For Contempt
04:00
|
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|
She wanted an object, she received a routine. Give, receive nothing when the city comes clean. And all the cops are criminals and all us boys are too.
|
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6. |
Use (Organ Buildup)
02:41
|
|||
|
--
|
||||
7. |
--
02:19
|
|||
|
Some new money that starts with a jubilee. “Before we met one another” underneath the looming morning controlling nothing but form. “Before we met one another.” Written for the jaw, written for pelt.
|
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8. |
Outfit
05:49
|
|||
|
And then Nikki said “What if we dressed like cops? Think of what we could do. What if we looked like the weather? We could be so clever, repairing braids of rope. Never any messes. Burn the expert body, the weeping lights at the exhibition. So going around cities. Everything’s fine we’ll all just hold hands. It’s like pissing on cherubs. We could be so clever, repairing braids of rope.”
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9. |
For Other People
02:13
|
|||
|
Turned out of sleep in the peace of prisons. Singing on the marble factory walls. A lot of people suffer from impotence. All the money’s gone. Maybe there was nothing else to do. I’ll come and meet you. To all my lovers and all my friends and all of your lovers and all of your friends. The best of coercion. What kind of things. I make mine.
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10. |
375 Images of Angels
03:09
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|
The bread haunts the chains. The spinal solution. The fact of hunger. Protein, distension, a revisitation, metropolitan allure. She sells them dry paint or the marble in Athens. Thought the image of the robin was a flash of fire. We thought the clue was a solution.
|
||||
IRON LUNG Records Seattle, Washington
We know what We like and what We don't like.
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