1. |
Sick Adjacent
00:48
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“We're on a mission of love, I proclaim it!”
He's testing the whole train
But no one makes it rain
I think you’d like me more
If I dignified the poor
He's walking up and down the El
Inviting us to his daily hell
And he’s got pain to sell
This whole year had me on edge
I’m off at Huntington but he’s still on a ledge.
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2. |
Good Bomb #21
01:18
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What’s good for myself
My face concealed
I can’t deal
My projection
Disguises loss
I need control
Fuck it. Come the fuck on.
Some mother fuckers try to front
But they know what they want
plastic injections
tires and fries
margarine, oil,
the culture thrives
The costs we cover
The costs we cover
… Never settle up
The costs we cover
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3. |
Foment Vomit
01:06
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Suicide. Another workplace suicide.
Lament a passing life fifteen minutes to five.
Annoyed by parasites and fakers and vapers.
I am a nice guy in the nice economy
Bought and sold like rice by pimps of empathy
Can't talk to each other. Same lunch five days a week. Get on the fucking phone and sell humanity.
Punch in. Punch out.
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4. |
Nothing Is Missing
01:08
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If I find a shirt
I will find a way
To dress
…
Now it's washed
…
Now it's all good
It's so condescending
The self pre-rendered
Have Amber mend it
A custom so dated
The colors so faded
Dress incarcerated
Hot water cold rinse
Hot water cold rinse
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5. |
Fangled
01:32
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I had a dream so wrong it hurt. I was a priest in my childhood church.
Stepped out to the congregation’s teary, muted patience.
It could have been a wedding or a funeral oration.
Each lasts for hours. Fuck all your flowers.
Shined up and refined
Make it look like I bought/got time.
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6. |
Demivoid
01:13
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Two pits in a yard
in Chester.
Ravenous, maddened.
Their owner's inside doubled up
Nodding off a heroin overdose
Baby's crying in the hall
A filthy mess
Mom's around
She's trying to eBay the plates
Tombstones of flat borosilicate
Pine fresh in the window
Disguises the rot
The modern domestic
Do the whispers speak?
When you wake up still breathing?
When you wake up wheezing?
Are you still breathing?
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7. |
Signage
01:14
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In my car and looking
When I moved your chair
And it was snowing so hard
I saw you naked in the door
It's time to close your curtains
You animal
And it's a public road
I promise I won't touch your fucking cone
And I’m home
You’re next in line.
Just drive on by.
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8. |
This Is Better
01:13
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Trapped inside the postcard of hate's regards
I used to write lyrics but this is better
Sucking out your venomous bite of lies
I used to make sense but this is better.
Awake against this confusing lack of rest
I used to try and sleep but this is better
I used to have a clue but this is better
I used to pay attention but this is better
I used to fuck you but this is better
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9. |
Telepathic Foetus
01:06
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Do you
see the fetus
immortal?
She's right outside.
Should I let her in?
She byo’d, I think. It’s fine.
Here we go:
Pink hands, pink nose, pink eyes.
She speaks in our minds.
Pink hands, pink nose, pink eyes.
I swear I’m not high.
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10. |
Mortalism
01:30
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The words we use are the key to meaning.
What we see, facts, truth.
It’s natural to lie.
We don’t connect anymore. I think you’d agree.
Language is getting old, I think I agree.
To ditch words and find a replacement,
We need to agree on the real. What‘s real?
It’s what people say.
Connected sensory input, shared epistemic belief.
Distressed, electric.
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11. |
Punishment Protocol
01:32
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(Judgy gyno wants his propers
But I came up with another offer
Pull my pants down at the doctor’s
He puts a mask on for the chopper)
No, not taking your babycillin
No, not taking your policy of pain
No, not spending a lifetime waiting
No, no shooting off in me unless I have b.c.
But now I got the clips.
In my house, in my mouth,
I’m waiting for you.
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Inspector Moon Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Hardcore punk. RIP.
New music by ex-members at sashavee.bandcamp.com
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