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Cassette + Digital AlbumWhite print on blue cassette w/ 8-panel insert including all lyrics and free digital download code. Limited first edition.
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Compact Disc
Compact Disc (CD) + Digital AlbumCD w/ 4-panel insert including all lyrics.
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lyrics
The sky's falling apart on the ridge
telling her she has to die before she can live,
so she shares this last smoke
with the wind.
Like the pipe-gush behind a classroom poster of
a "determined" river,
she can feel it splash her liver.
Then she's gone
with all the misspelled, italicized thoughts,
climbing light like a stubborn moth,
like the ceiling is the afterlife.
So she talks
to the ceiling until the silence seems
like someone might be listening
or at least taking some of this stuff down.
He likes to pretend he's a kind of puddle
just long enough that the concave goes convex
and he becomes a kind of crest.
But it's a horseshoe hung above the door
he has a hard time reaching anymore,
and no luck when he can—just an empty hand
and a pair of round dice.
Then he's off
with all the misspelled, italicized thoughts
climbing light like a stubborn moth.
The ceiling is the afterlife.
And he talks
to the ceiling until the silence seems
like someone might be listening.
Well, here's a promise
I know the silence keeps:
When nothing means anything,
that's when you get to tell nothing what it means.
I mean
as the planet shakes us off like fleas,
and every corner of the map's red with disease,
and hiding on the back of every mystery
is a little, plastic cover for some batteries,
and the tail lights line up like a rosary,
and we place the future's neck in the guillotine,
come meet me for a smoke on the mezzanine
so I can bum one and keep you close to me.
telling her she has to die before she can live,
so she shares this last smoke
with the wind.
Like the pipe-gush behind a classroom poster of
a "determined" river,
she can feel it splash her liver.
Then she's gone
with all the misspelled, italicized thoughts,
climbing light like a stubborn moth,
like the ceiling is the afterlife.
So she talks
to the ceiling until the silence seems
like someone might be listening
or at least taking some of this stuff down.
He likes to pretend he's a kind of puddle
just long enough that the concave goes convex
and he becomes a kind of crest.
But it's a horseshoe hung above the door
he has a hard time reaching anymore,
and no luck when he can—just an empty hand
and a pair of round dice.
Then he's off
with all the misspelled, italicized thoughts
climbing light like a stubborn moth.
The ceiling is the afterlife.
And he talks
to the ceiling until the silence seems
like someone might be listening.
Well, here's a promise
I know the silence keeps:
When nothing means anything,
that's when you get to tell nothing what it means.
I mean
as the planet shakes us off like fleas,
and every corner of the map's red with disease,
and hiding on the back of every mystery
is a little, plastic cover for some batteries,
and the tail lights line up like a rosary,
and we place the future's neck in the guillotine,
come meet me for a smoke on the mezzanine
so I can bum one and keep you close to me.
credits
from Era Adieu,
released July 12, 2021
license
all rights reserved
tags
about
monopines Moscow, Idaho
Reliably decent rock and also roll from Moscow, Idaho.
discography
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Mar 2023 -
Jul 2021