1. |
Moths at a Light
03:36
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I made some bad decisions
Stacked up wrongs in crooked piles
Danced my way to doors nostalgic
Then waltzed in to far to still be right
I’ve yet to know all the shapes
That my mistakes can create
But shame is a dangerous tool
Especially when you’re working on yourself
You came to my show and stood
Nearly on the stage before me
My hands turned to cinder blocks
My mouth was like a camel’s cloth
Somehow I shook your staring
Maybe it was the rock n’roll blaring
Confidence is a seesaw
I know the ups and downs took a toll on you too
In an effort to define it
We pine for parts to get hard
Ache for those that get wet
And bashful eyes are made historic
In an effort to shake mystery
We dive fast between legs
Text fast between sex
Emoticons are paying off the debt of magic
I know it’s not a waste of paint
The care is freely chiming
In my most depleted state
Or my most elated mania
But the words stand in air
Then flit like moths at a light
Because I breathe the timing
Tonguing end to a pause out of might
Sometimes I can really sense it
If I’m in a small enough mood
The world rearranging itself
Around me in a flood of cues
But I don’t merit that distinction
That voyeur’s heightened view
I just with that I could arrange myself
To live in a city different than you
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2. |
Like an Orange
02:57
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Does it break open like an orange
The peel in one fibrous spiral on the floor
Or is it more like a package of double-As
Machine-cut dash lines behind the plastic case
Put the positive at one end
And distance myself from the screen
The negative pressed against the other
I’m trying to get to where you are
This cushion must come with a cage
A combination I knew once, but forgot
Or is it more like a tampered-with seal
Someone has been before where we need to go to heal
Trying to get to where you are
Trying to get to where you are
Trying to get to where you are
Trying to get to where you are
Trying to get to where you are
Trying to get to where you are
Trying to get to where you are
Trying to get to where you are
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3. |
Gymnasium
03:08
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Youngest in the room, minus volunteers
Not here to perform, but to clear the air
Embarrassed, sure, it’s strange to be alone
So much of the time, then to be on campus
20 minutes in a folding chair, I can only think of me
Gymnasium, gymnasium
Last time I was here was to see a volleyball team
With a thousand plus, cheering maskless
In 2013, I craved every new thing
Thought I had just been blessed, Shakey knew I was a mess
And in a Cleveland lot, in a way I hadn’t felt
Ali showed me what I was, on a hard drive full of love
Erik’s got that shot somewhere, on a hard drive full of love
In Richmond, in June, my favorite aunt felt it too
Said I had to slow down, said I wasn’t alone
I knew I could be a poet, I wrote thousands of lines
That only made sense in my manic fortress design
Headstrong, focused, unwilling to concede
I was obsessed by change, but couldn’t face my need to
The windshield was a theatre, each city a greatest hit
Every stranger I encountered, I knew I could convince
On my future indie memoir of the famous floors I’d slept on
It felt like I was cheating if we booked one smoking single
Trav made an appointment and it felt so out of bounds
I wouldn’t listen to anyone I hadn’t just met
I’d take two Vivarin, then volunteer to drive
Cue Ben Lerner’s PennSound, wait for fragments to unite
Use the deprivation as an asset to my style
And as the bud of sky opened, it felt like I had won
If I had met the sun twice before calling one day done
Smoking through the morning, drinking in the afternoon
I read all Nick Hornby’d written just to finish one thing
And when it got dark, I’d go out and prove
I was good, even better than I had been ever
I was good, even better than I had been ever
I was good, even better than I had been ever
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4. |
One-Eyed Paradise
01:48
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About a crayon’s width or a load screen’s wait
In the 128 kit or an NES mainstay
Where a button drops you in to defend a paradise
Holding a machine gun and the privilege you’ve denied
They’ve left us lines as guides
And the pulp to catch your cut
I’m a fan of your disguise
I hope I don’t mix it up
In a hostel made to mimic the brothel from Twin Peaks
I felt real life come over me
Rinsing from my knee, ooze
Urooshiol had dug into my skin
My Yellowstone foil
Why had I felt compelled to race off of the trail
I was a fan of it’s disguise
I was chasing my tale
Four women fresh from Red Rocks
Wowed by his showmanship
Had edibles for breakfast
Went on about his wit
Offered us extra tickets
But we’d just spent a hundred bucks on weed pens
I was a fan of their disguise, even in the phony flames
As I defended paradise, I showed restraint
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5. |
The Room Acts Small
02:32
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Ladel-thick, incredulous
So perfect I was scared to look it up
Ruin what I didn’t know about it
With what I could find out
A basic cliff and fizz-flat wind
Dance between the trees
We just met, but they’re believable
The scraps of fact, decay going down for a nap
A swoop of brush, collected hush
Pinwheels like lights make walls
The room acts small and breathes in a scale I can’t see
I move my eyes like a hammer, no a sieve
Civilization breaks itself just for me
For me to sit still on one piece
Briefly you are bleeding
No bad color against your skin
You appear so put-together
As you muscle at distraction
What was in excess has come undressed
Vomit flecks dry on porcelain
One holds a shovel up high
Another walks into it with his eye
Missed it by a stroke of math
He sprints from us between the trees
I wrap him in arms and his teeth sink
A tool we need locked in with the keys
Numbers level us, but bend our trust
Constant a map of scraps
Putting off what you could sit down to
In an effort to subtract
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Feeling Small Austin, Texas
Feeling Small is a new vehicle for the songs of Chase Weinacht (Marmalakes). Dressed by a rotating cast of players from the Austin community, then hemmed and fastened by producer John Michael Landon, these vulnerable, delicate song shapes reveal an inconsistent pursuit of personal growth. ... more
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