1. |
waterlogged
02:59
|
|||
|
you stayed afloat.
your heart was your boat.
i watched your ship escape from atop my cliff.
and it seemed so sudden,
but there you were navigating waves
like the whole spiral of life dictates.
then you got stuck on a sandbar.
you were so young then, it seemed too sudden.
but you were rocking! a maniac!
to break your boat off the same path.
beneath the cliff, between a crash
you shuffled free with a loud splash.
you broke your boat off the same path.
you knew you'd stay afloat.
an unholy heart makes a watertight boat.
you're gone.
but you rocked the boat.
down through the mud,
up through the waterlogging.
down with the rain,
up with the sun each morning.
you stayed afloat,
up through the waterlogging.
down with the rain,
up with the sun each morning.
your ship is small,
but you will stay afloat.
you're waterlogged,
but you will bail your boat.
your ship is small,
but you will stay afloat.
but the water rushed in far too fast,
far too suddenly.
your name has since been
stolen from my mouth.
|
||||
2. |
time die elation
03:11
|
|||
|
just as the camera clicks
something within you snaps
just as the image writes
saved in a fibrous light
you close your left eye and then
screw up your right
so it makes a memory.
just as the camera clicks
a new memory is formed.
just as the image writes
you save a second in your mind's eye as an era.
a visual reminder of a feeling.
it needs you now to have a leg.
you made it seem important.
i'm older.
my heart is beating slower.
but time is moving faster.
and time is less elastic.
and time is ever fleeting.
i'm bleeding on a poster,
i cut my finger open.
and time is moving slower.
my heart is beating faster.
and time is more elastic.
hold tight or it will leak out.
HOLD TIGHT OR IT WILL LEAK OUT.
my heart is beating slower.
but time is moving faster.
and time is less elastic.
and time is ever fleeting.
i'm bleeding on a poster.
i cut my finger open.
time moves too close
i can't focus.
just as the camera clicks
a moment is frozen.
and written to a memory.
broken, selectively saving what's important.
the camera clicks,
a moment is frozen.
and written to a memory.
broken, selectively saving what's important.
you gave legs to this.
|
||||
3. |
the color of denial
04:00
|
|||
|
i had a dream last night.
i seen a fading light
outside my one-windowed bedroom.
a car driving away accelerates.
and in that moment
then i realized
i'd been locked inside this place for days.
and you were moving
ever further away.
one chance
to gather up the yellow sun.
one chance
to split a heart into 2 beats.
dance
until the light makes you woozy.
crooked teeth don't equate
to a crooked smile.
with imperfections mean a perfect mile.
i don't want what i love stolen.
i don't want what i love used.
i don't need an abuser
i don't wanna be forced to abuse.
red is an accent color.
green is the color of denial.
live on, leave me be.
by now the light was gone,
up over hills beyond the clouds
on the horizon.
loneliness fell down and froze me
like a tree caught in an ice storm,
bent down under the weight
of self-imposed sadness.
but never truly losing balance.
|
||||
4. |
714 before
03:45
|
|||
|
I'm still afraid to be at alone at night, at home.
Because I'm still hearing voices
in the basement, underneath the pavement.
And I'm afraid to go to sleep.
I still hear the creaking sound of steps
above my head,
bending the boards above my bed.
And then I'm standing alone
at the top of the stairs looking down.
Smoke billows up and the banister buckles,
I fall forward and tumble.
Thinking of the burnt book I found.
Inside, a postcard never sent out.
Why do I feel like I've seen this before?
Is it possible I'm dreaming for 714?
I'm still afraid to be alone at night when I'm at home.
And I am still hearing voices in the basement.
Whispering below my bed,
heating the floorboards with their breath.
The last scene at 714.
714 before you were burned.
I'm stuck in that dream again.
You're a voice in my ear.
714, what did you see?
One thing is clear:
If you could speak you'd say,
"Something's not right!"
I'm still afraid to be alone at night when I'm at home.
And I am still hearing voices in the basement.
Underneath the pavement.
714 before you were burned.
|
||||
Old Home Champaign, Illinois
Jereme Makowski, Kyle Scott, Greg Jaeger, Chris Hopkins
If you like Old Home, you may also like:
Laurels of the End of History
by Cime
This imaginative release from Monty Cime blends Latin folk music and experimental noise for a sense of surreal nostalgia.
go to album
Strange and angsty alternative rock from Los Angeles that hovers between haunting and pretty and sharp and driving.
go to album
The latest Djunah LP channels the duo's heavy, intensely cathartic sound to reflect on living with and healing from trauma.
go to album
From L.A. comes the latest from post-rock outfit bondo, with tendrils of spindly guitar snaking through arid percussion.
go to album
Melancholic and sharp instrumental post-rock from Oklahoma group Speak, Memory.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio May 14, 2021
go to album
The beloved Japanese post-hardcore group return after three long years away with two new dynamic, heartfelt tracks.
go to album
