Take a shit, take a pee.
Make some eggs.
Go to Sleep.
Still can’t catch me.
Fuck tha Police.
I scaled ramparts to find you.
And the bombs never stopped.
I thought maybe you’d remember.
And I could take you back home.
But when I finally found you, you didn’t know me.
And I couldn’t remind you. I couldn’t get through.
I was out of breath from all the running.
From all the ceaseless trying. I made no sense.
I had lost my tongue. I had lost my eyes.
I was disappearing just like you.
Oh Christ, how I wanted to kiss you. Kiss you good on the mouth like a teenager.
But it wasn’t the time or the place. I didn’t have a breath mint on me.
There was a long silence before the ground shook like an electric eel.
And we were gone from each other once more.
And as I slid into the Earth with all the dinosaur bones, I said a silent prayer.
I prayed that I’d find you again. When my name was different. And yours was too.
One day when things were new. A long time from now.
When the bombs had stopped falling from the sky like icicles in spring.
who tell half-truths
Check out this Super 8 music video I shot in Austin, TX (during SXSW) for The ORWELLS. On top of showcasing the band’s general shit-chewing hang time, the video features a few cameos by some real bros. And special thanks to Luke LUCAS for letting us use a number of his incredible photos. EO
The Roches – Hammond Song
Pearl Harbor – Luv Goon
Motorcycle Crash – Highway Lines
The Chills – Pink Frost
Jefferson Starship – Miracles
The Cure – Charlotte Sometimes
Visage – Fade To Grey
Gorsky’s Zygotic Munchi – Eira
The Pastels – Comin’ Through
Nick Lowe – So It Goes
The Barracudas – Violent Times
Take your American face
and lay it on the tracks, babe.
Your pretty perfumed hair
all wet from the rain.
You feel blue sometimes
and man, who doesn’t, man?
But you’re not the only one hollering for answers.
Seeking something lost that can’t be found.
You keep asking questions like,
what’s going on around here?
Who’s in charge?
How tall do you have to be to ride this ride?
Well there ain’t no restrictions on this ferris wheel, mama. Anyone can try.
But there’s no going back after you’ve given the man your dollar.
Just sit back and let the lights whirl past you real fast
and feel the noise rattle your eardrums.
And feel your heart race and feel it good and feel it good and feel it good.
Boom boom. Boom boom. Boom boom like a caveman wallop.
That’s being hip, sister.
That’s being alive.
So take your twenty-first century face
and take it off the tracks.
Because there’s no train coming.
They closed this line years ago.
And you’re just being dramatic, baby.
I saw you laughing yesterday.
For two weeks I lived with Jeff, Mike, Curt, Stan and Ryan. They share an apartment in Chicago where the next drink is more important than unzipping their pants before they piss. The television screen is there. The gas was there. Death is a priority. Constantly losing to the growth of bacteria. Curt likes to pull his pants down and piss on them as a way to avoid leaving his room. My other friends have started a very good band. They are ex-boyfriends and my life was threatened for my paper money. I set an alarm every night but was never woken by it. I woke when a strange hand was in my pocket, fishing for pennies. NM.