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lyrics

no fun

“even the baby with syphilis is the dreaming godhead” -Alan Watts

this is for me and the cartoon in suite 503 for the camera that never caught the killing
imagination trying to push a falling city through a hole a volcano’s creativity is our destruction and i receive a canvas and a room tab from somewhere around my liver a bottomless pistol the jammed song still robs stores takes your breath but can’t breath out never actually plays its first or anyone’s last chord i can’t letter my position wrap the words around this instant’s disposition only what it’s hanging off of -the love song dangling from a 4pms radio never playing your insides your stomach airing your lungs no requests for the warm room you can’t find in yourself more appropriate listening to static putting your ear or really your eye putting your eye right up to god and the chasm of overused metaphors 17 churches sorry superstores to one street choose your fig to represent your spirit your individuality and all its free choosing boneless chicken breast brands on a ration line at the end of your wallet’s vocabulary all this shop talk hurts the metal in my head the receipt paper in my register steal me running from whatever’s coming ocean stuttering river nothing of a womb far from the picture here’s a shot of what’s just left of what i’m trying to drain or net for something no more decorative than a fish tank in cap locks even the day it leaks i receive a bucket and a chain like a lover and a pallet of colors with no space to write on the covered wall this bedroom covered the last as best it could the skyscraper covered the church did it bigger the snow covered the parking lots like static we played fuzzy and humming inside for 3 days a lit candle refers me to times which will never exist again only in a future fall or winter will a candle’s second splice it all together for those who still exist if that room’s still lit inside them we are each other’s breath all the oxygen in a locked room she was my vent this for them and the mystery in each suite

credits

from Two Ton Sloth - Siphoning Dreams, released December 30, 2009
produced by Big Pauper & Brad Hamers
lyrics & vocals by Brad Hamers

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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 ... more

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