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lyrics

one bedroom apt.

broken head
the ash tray busting out of its favorite shirt
refrigerator humming itself to sleep
the concert rerun in a radio speaker with a hand over its mouth
empty stomach
the waitress upstairs cooking dinner in her work clothes
another tree stump that buys herself a new ring each year with christmas bonus

button down mouth popped open my gut hanging out
rewriting blurry train schedules on scrap paper the love stickers to a new day still in its plastic
and packaging tape inspiration feeding tube headquakes and pen drool
vacation in the islands every man’s a salesmen door to door
the sun in a business suit a summer sale on delightful window views
my living room windows take deep breathes and wear reading glasses to watch the sunset
the sun can’t color without tracing paper
the highway outside my window sometimes sounds like an ocean trying to mimick itself
alone - the new way to wear your hair
been practicing death with a script and a hand mirror
the brail on my skin when the breeze kicks in reads i wish floating felt more like flying like
forgetting how to read falling asleep with newspapers over my face
poorly ventilated mind the ten dollar house tour 3 rooms warped picture book with its
stomach in a bind the records stores sell songs no one will ever meet or hold on cold mornings
thinking about coffee sizes and the lines at the local gas station
satisfaction would rather a face lift and surgery than me always complimenting its beauty marks
:the reason i keep putting full packs cigarettes out all over my forearm
is the world around you silent just before your car hits the water
do play your favorite album at peak levels to fuck with the natural process
or do you close your eyes and pretend you’re in bed with a pistol under the pillow
waiting for someone to break into your alarm clock
stuck in dream traffic with an empty stomach and a skipping head
trying to keep your thoughts dancing
the noise of cars outside my window burn out around three in the morning
silence gives microphones to the floorboards upstairs
they sing their songs on stage while my dreams talk at the bar
open mic nights where the heating pipes even get up to do a number
shades at the window waiting for the sun to come and pick them up
off to work and work off the weight of bills and debt
the power goes out my time card reads 12 o’clock
lunch date expired my car massages back roads where the streets bend around
shoulder blades like mountains driving the sun up a wall
trailer hitching my shadow moving truck relocating my self image
towing the broken down thoughts back to the shop
open mind hours: 6am till sundown - moon up - in a tree
sitting on a branch drawing self-portraits from a puddle
kayaking in my stream of consciousness telling it to stop staring at me
i can’t keep the boat straight
the giant trash barge is distracting me

heart - beat - machine
the album with classic production
coming undone
she will love you in that new dress
and you’ll tell your mind to wrap its arms around
every smile to forget how emptiness feels:
the skin of an angel:
the drum without a beat
my body dances around a bad song that never cuts to commercial




wear yourself loudly

credits

from the cut​-​ups of a paper woman, released January 1, 2005
written and produced by Brad Hamers

license

all rights reserved

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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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