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    phlegm (brad hamers & slomoshun) - debut LP 2002 Three Sides Of A Circle (3SC)
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lyrics

out of tune instruments
part A –

how many people don’t feel like going home tonight
how many questions will you die with in your pockets
how many answers do think will ever help you out
how many mornings would you rather stay in bed

this life tastes like cardboard
and i’m boxed in
this life tastes like cardboard
and i’m boxed in

how many people don’t feel like going home tonight
how many questions will you die with in your pockets
how many answers do think will ever help you out
how many mornings would you rather stay in bed

this life tastes like cardboard
and i’m boxed in
this life tastes like cardboard
and i’m boxed in
these walls try to talk to me
but i don’t listen
this world is a pool
and i’m drowning


part B –

a tarnished man – sitting
a salt and pepper shaker – still
a pile of dusty clothing
on a sidewalk
next to a paper cup
with its palm out
he plays an instrument
sings to the city air like
rain pellets hit the gutter
then the concrete
then gets muffled by $90 sneakers
his fingers around me like belts
worn leather – wrinkled
pressing notes
leaving finger prints in sounds –
music – like a women crying in her car
plucking me – hollow sounds
like a little drummer boy pounding the roof – with his fists
my head

like mallets on glass tables
cymbals
like a car crashes – bulbs popping
dinner plates on linoleum
we move through the world like music
brushing shoulders
songs with lips –
dress shoes on tile floors
nervous finger tips on wood desks
painted nails on computer keys
its all a song
we’re symphonies without music stands
memorizing conversations
and pretending to be ourselves

a guitar shaped women
scratching her stomach – gently
a hole in her center
and metal knobs on her face
one note at a time
a violin string flossing a tooth in a trumpet’s mouth
a saxophone off the hook
a stuttering flute trying to relate to a cymbal
i fall asleep to the sound of my pen playing the paper
my brain sheds scales like a lizard on the xylophone
skipping records
long days
the speaker is an open pore
sweating
twisted jazz notes that read themselves out loud
the saxophone is throwing up in the sink
and i’m mesmerized by the sound of its dry-heaving
the piano is leaving suicide notes behind
and i whistle along with them
waiting for the viola to break through my car windows
and pull me from the wheel
the cymbal crashes
and so do i
i bleed vinyl
black drool
worn out record
needle on track mark

its like a piano and cello making love to each other on top of a bass drum in my attic
combing my hair with a bow and singing with a broken reed
her mind’s one giant cd deck
that won’t stay in the dash board
this life tastes like cardboard
and i’m boxed in
bandaged with packing tape
and clothed in shipping labels
the moon plays the night and we all dance our way home from work
there’s an entire orchestra in the car next to me
and she keeps taking me out of the music
i just want to fuck the cello
until its got me strung out on its strings
hanging damp like washed clothes whispering at the sun
the music melts
this life tastes like chocolate
and i’m boxed in
if music had a brain, i’d pick it like scab on a flower petal
i’m an out of tune instrument
silence

credits

from phlegm - one night stands with out of tune instruments in a room with blue wallpaper, released March 5, 2002
lyrics & vocals by Brad Hamers
productions by Slomoshun
3SC 2002

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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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