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about

another one written in kribber's attic on the 4th of july

lyrics

I come down to the sound of machines
No idea what they could be doing
No idea how to rage against these
Without money

And I hope I don’t run out of steam
Yeah but what are the chances of me
Stickin round for as long as you need
I resemble my money

I was not at the estate sale
they sold everything
Not unlike pocket change, losing weeks
Paying to weep

It hurts worse when you can’t blame something
Askin how nothingness could increase
but my phantom limb only agrees
with the nothing

Askin how real the crisis could be
Layin on Santa Monica beach
For a second I found it funny
Now I’m sure it’s disgusting

buildings all started feeling empty
filled with best friends or worst enemies
they were playing the right frequencies
canceling out coherence

but no one will get ahead of me
Up all night on methamphetamines
workin on my lyrics so the theme
is not about my lyrics

I was not at the estate sale
they sold everything
Not unlike pocket change, losing weeks
Paying to weep

credits

from Uncle Sam's Club for the Agoraphobic (work from 2016 Residency at ACRE), released August 10, 2016

license

all rights reserved

tags

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