1. |
Wherever I Might Land
02:49
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we hatched a plan in early hours of the morning. i called favors in from family and saved enough to quit my job and there i was, lying to customs agents, trying to get through the border from my hometown through a snowstorm to an airplane to a shuttle to an airplane to a taxi to your door.
and now that i’m here, i couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. and i swear i’ll do my damnedest to express how good it felt to be so welcomed and looked after when i usually bring disaster to wherever i may stand. i know i lucked out when i touched down on dry land.
and we sweated through our t-shirts in the february summer. my amazement riding shotgun. yes, i think i’ll have another because even though my vision’s blurring, i’ve never been so clear on where to go.
now i know that it’s “everywhere i can” and now i’m back home making plans. i'm caught in cycles, looking for some work where i can use my hands. and though our schedules may not always line up, no matter where i am, i would be lucky to call someone like you “friend” wherever i might land.
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2. |
The Quiet Persuader
02:51
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Pacing hotel room hallways, trying to call you but not getting through. Driving congested highways, closing whatever space that I can. Calming, a calming effect that is only achieved by arguing with those kind enough to listen to you. And then there's me: I'm the quiet persuader. Willing things to just happen while everyone else is working, working for something. But oh, to accept the space between what we do and what we dream of! Every sacrifice, every compromise, it just builds up the shame. Is it so much to ask to make a life out of this? I should be choosing my words but I'm throwing my fists. I should be building up a wall against a sedative complacency but nothing's gonna calm it down and no one's getting through to me. Just how much longer can we stay? Just how much more can we take? We should be making our marks but we're cleaning the walls. I was counting the miles. You were counting the days. Ain’t it strange the numbers we wanted were moving in opposite ways? Will you remember me?
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3. |
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Your face was framed by the airplane window. Half asleep in the glimmering light from the sky. Your headphones in as you softly slumber six miles up, letting everything pass by under you. They told me, “You can go but it won’t be different. You might as well just glue your feet to the ground. It doesn’t matter the place you’re staying. You’ll always be one forever lost and found, spilling over and losing it.” But as we trace lines on new highways that connect way back to familiar places, I’m thinking, “It has to be ten times more important to pound at the door of a heart that’s dormant than to hide in your hometown and try to ignore it.” But wait long enough, and it’ll steal you away one day. I held it in my hands until it slipped through the cracks in my fingers, the weakest of muscle, the hollowest of bone, the things that keep us whole. All I can say is, “Don’t ever let your fear get in the way.”
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4. |
St. Vincent Charity
03:08
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You were easier to meet than to get to know. An unwavering smile gave way to something twisted, dark and foreign. And when I would call, you were never home. Maybe I could have prevented something or had some influence. But when you called me from the hospital, I recognized your voice but I didn’t understand it at all. You said you were sorry but you didn’t say what for. And that you wished we could have been friends in real life, but that night reality never hit harder. Whitewashed eyes dimly reflecting a fluorescent glow. You laid still while I was tearing up the floorboards. There in the dimming lights and the peeling labels, clusters of couches and coffee tables. A sinking sun splits a stagnant sky and the church doors open. And the bed they made you at St. Vincent held a body’s warmth and a heart stretched distant, out past the shoreway and into the hands of the ones we love but leave alone.
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5. |
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the cycle goes on and on
an endless circle of scaring the shit out of me
as we get strung along
dragged 'til were nothing but cosmic debris
If there's something wrong
then there's something wrong with everything
and what spurs us on
will pull us apart
we're just trying to find our place
fight our way through a four dimensional space
and our reward for this
is not knowing why we exist
if there's nothing wrong
then there's nothing wrong with anything
and what spurs us on
will pull us apart
If I can ask one thing when I am dead
would you lay me down by the river bed?
let me wash away
let it take me back from where I came
cause all I am and all I was is just
blood and dirt and bones and mud
and I'm better off that way
I'm better off that way
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Signals Midwest Cleveland, Ohio
we are a punk/indie band from Cleveland, now spread throughout OH and PA. we've been doing this together since 2008. we have been lucky enough to see the world together but will still play in your kitchen or anywhere really.
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