LYRICS:
Unsuccessful landing in the desert of the prospect
Thought best to cross-check the methods of our contact
Lost the signal, nominally panicked
But I'll stand by on this planet till the odds have gotten dismal
Hold that, I've got a visual
Human in a rocket box that screeches, honks, and whistles
Tried to be official but their language isn't simple
Time to be assimilated, protocol is impulse
Slime it, take its shape
And fit my brain into its thin skull
I'll transmit to you soon but for the moment I must mingle

Still awaiting orders, got my transmitter on standby
Almost twenty earth years I've been gone
Tried to do repairs, but even still, my baby can't fly
Don't see why you'd need me here so long
People and their ways, it's all confusing
Each one thinks the next knows right from wrong
Wandering about, what am I doing?
Send me help, I'll never quite belong
Send me help, I'll never quite belong
Still awaiting orders, got my transmitter on standby
Send me help, I'll never quite belong

On Standby

Six Month

Negative Space

I use this account to force myself to create things. I'll sit down with a recording app on my phone, a notepad, a pen, a guitar, a piano, and some cardboard boxes, and I won't get back up again until I've got some semblance of a song.

AmpRose

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