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lyrics

Victoria, you were a pretty twig. My eyes were two rotten men that just wanted to see through your clothes. Lend me your brooch, I know what I’ve done. I’m moving out, I’m passing through. I came in and out of you like a graceless razor.

One hundred and ten pounds of failed conversation. I just want to make it home tonight. I just want to make it home.

And I just wanted to be the unnatural tendency that sneaks its way through the party, to spike the punchbowl. But I think I made my patrons sick, I was caught trumpeting loud my little prick. And I think that I will grow old and die utterly unremarkably.

One hundred and ten pounds of failed conversation. There’s the stories you tell and then the damages you keep to yourself.

But your two old feet just burn and break against the ground. Until there’s nothing left to hold, to hate, to hurt, to pine. To drive away and make words from.

Strikelines become the landscape. I get used to the way my body shakes. And each new year I will wander the grounds with a metal detector. Maybe god is the feeling hunched inside the blank ceiling space. Oh if god is a feeling, god, let’s dance our hearts out.

Until your two old feet just burn and break against the ground. Until there’s nothing left to hold, to hate, to hurt, to pine. TO PUSH INTO THE BATHTUB, OH !

credits

from Songs for Losers, released July 13, 2017

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Cryptozoologists Whitehorse, Yukon

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