1. |
Try Pt. 1 / Pt. 2
05:04
|
|
||
i'm trying my best to try; try to cook and clean and bike all the time and search for a new kind of light. i'm trying my best to not hurt my friends or myself but it never works. search for a new kind of light. they told me it's time to go outside. i try my best, i try to try, try to work, try to bike beneath the sky. wide eyes they make some things so bright, make everyone look like they've got more sight. cut by the saw grass, i keep my pace, the harder I look the less there's a trace. i feel like i'll never figure out what i want, what it's all about.
|
||||
2. |
American
02:13
|
|||
hold on to these quiet moments. savor them soft; don't let them pass. but right now i don't feel like it--i'm drunk and i feel like shit. if i don't leave this room soon, all my bones will break in two. think what i should have said today to have it come out good. american, this dream's all i got to keep me going. if i ever end up where i aim, part of me knows it will be the same. climbing mountains taught me that i don't like to win.
|
||||
3. |
Bad Sound
03:07
|
|
||
repost and softly glow or read silent on my own. the tried and true slowly come back to you. a gray hair older, three weeks home, or maybe just you're making me bored. i look for comfort in things which are not, but they will remain all the same. things labelled so: "occult": 1 your dreams, 2 your name, 3 my note, 4 the tried, 6 the true and 7 happiness will reveal themselves to you.
|
||||
4. |
Old Folks
01:55
|
|
||
i threw up under that tree in high school always looking for something nice or alright alone under bedsheet covers. driving around, i'll think of old friends underground, "remember yesterday, remember today." think something nice or nothing alright, driving silence isn't silence. i went through that hole where old folks don't go and i wrote my name there.
|
||||
5. |
Garden
03:51
|
|
||
my mother's backyard will turn back though led so hard, and this land, though i love, will forget all who work to construct. come fall, the wind blows and in it all my friends go. how can i even bear to try at all? this garden from dust and this garden to dust it will return.
|
||||
6. |
Witching Hour
04:20
|
|
||
i am a tool for the land and the bones in my hand mean as much as sand. so when i look at the time and see 11:39, my anxious heart tick starts to not feel so right. i'm sorry for things and i'm sorry it seems that i have no faith in the most obvious things. please walk on my grave. plant on top flowers, but erase my name. i am a tool for the land and the bones in my hand mean as much as sand. so when i'm home at night, tired feeling right, i flip through the channels then turn out the light. i listen to them: "never borrow or lend". there'll be no sleep 'til i'm home again. please walk on my grave. plant on top flowers but erase my name.
|
||||
7. |
Family Plot
04:07
|
|
||
when i pass by that old family grave or feel a cold wind bite i feel safe. i'm glad to know there's a spot for me hidden beneath the snow. on winter's eve the leaves hit the floor and my friends go back away somewhere to respective homes. i'm glad to know that we call this home. back again and fine, everyone's alright, arizona ice with this girl of mine. now scared of sleep, my friends will stay up all night. i'm glad to know so bury the hole.
|
||||
8. |
Search For
03:00
|
|
||
i am done being the selfless boy i'm told i once was because nothing makes an asshole out of one more than love. on that truth i'm dependent while i claim my independence, i refuse to speak my mind. i am a freak of my own kind. too tired for anything and nearing the bitter end of a weak and fraying string. holding my indifference as a sign of my existence, i am wholly what i lack. i tried, but fuck trying when there's just doing and succeeding. there's just "proving it" and living up to shit.
|
||||
9. |
July '09
05:17
|
|
||
sometimes i think it's better to be desperately alone or spend some weekends looking out the window, but when i am on vacation, silent skipping stones, busy talking with good people i know, it is good. i am on vacation, silent skipping stones, busy talking with good people i know and it is good. july '09, every other night, sometimes in time to go home and sleep tight. sleeping and working, working means playing, and playing makes nothing. i can drive by cemetery night on the highway line that flickers at night, but it doesn't make things right.
|
Streaming and Download help
SPOOK HOUSES recommends:
If you like SPOOK HOUSES, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp