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fog belt

from Post No Dreams by Brad Hamers

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about

poem written - 2010
keyboard part written - 2006
vocals, guitar & violin recorded - 2010

lyrics

fog belt (empty lot songs) (new field songs)



we saw brick on top of brick
never realized the building we were building
we took turns working the door the revolving hackbut the musical saw
someone had to keep their foot in
i felt like the pepper-box in a stick up
wearing my own stock and bonds (as mask)
they all took too long to reload holding up their own tropes
it was owed money first and obvious questions last
never a full stop
we stood handing out street signs to each other
no one had a dead end
everyone folded with boats
and started holding up banks
we were all drought or drowning river cards
ordered onto rocks
we each wore a war president's mask
the right amount of sun or overcast over our face
slandering our bricks
i don't gamble nor breath only gasp and gulp
in this overdrawn gulf
i buy gloves
and someone to kill without looking
she held me up (with) her eyes half closed
i felt like an emptied register
setting precedence
every president's a war president
(every mask an extension of (or outlet out of (and back into) ourselves)
we hold up banks each time we deposit a paycheck
stilts on the house over owned land well known to flood over
we floated like anchors only for second in what we were able to see
brick on top of brick (we curse the high-card) (please) blow a hole through my next breath
put plumbing in my waste
build me a door i can lock
the walls we build around nothing
the walls we build around nothing
my fort was myself
all elaborate parapet
the West Bank's very first wall
he wore pilaster crown molding
trying not to turn blue in the antique chair
i snort my dust hand a bump to the (right) lane next to me
everything was worth slowing down for
but instead we chose to crash
i took the floor
let him hold down the couch
it was gravity this culture
weighing us down
some wore it as gold around their necks
others ninetheenth century slave iron or steel
stolen from our outer space
(can one hit dark matter)
stolen from our float
stolen from our floats
drowning in the winning river card
drowning in the bridge over a river now dry enough to walk
i was every flame
every missile bringing us down
and did it
ducked under and down comforter
i hold all of you in my heaviest arms
loaded into my A-134 gatling gun
every breath too heavy to hold
(every hand too broadway to ever fold)
i don't bluff or gamble only breath and know one day i won't
(don't buy in or play) (only check or call)
(don't drink or hunt me down without a chaser)
(i drown first thing each morning)
(buy (steal) your swimfins) (your conga line or slave chain for anchor)
(crippling ourselves crippling the deck)
i know nothing of the game (can you tell)
the parts of me lose
even if they don't know they're playing
breaking down the door card
no hand to knock
blown off arms they knew i only had a candy bar (or capgun) i still hold all of you
way down in my throat (down as far as my heart)
weighing down my throat
every next brick added weight
we sawed till there was nothing to see
(down to the last ring around our ever dotted eye) (down to the last chip in our (ever shrinking) head)
(and down to the last seen dust of ourselves)
i asked for the vaccuum
as my way out
(had saved seats on a closed line)
(how to kill sticker bushes in your yard)
all the bricks try to breath
can't all at once
the building never knows it touches the sky
even though it was and has always been from the very first brick


(the empty space was garden dirt)
(we dug down into the time in a straight line)

credits

from Post No Dreams, released November 30, 2010
written, played, recorded & produced by Brad Hamers
lyrics & vocals by Brad Hamers
violin by Shannon Steele
guitar by Big Pauper
mixed & mastered by Big Pauper

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

brad hamers Portland, Oregon

writer, music-maker, collage-maker,, performance-maker, loud dreamer, mental gymnast

(member of: Through Flames, Child Of No Nation, Cat Child, Dust On Snow, Two Ton Sloth, Phlegm and Al Límite Collective)

Artist at Shrine13

www.bradhamers.com
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