Airwaves lull like idyllic echoes in the cold/
While the people growing old age into ghouls/ 
And wander the trees like a breeze having been so boldly molded by geography/ 
Their family history is implanted/
Seeds sown of hate, fear, supplanting the words/
That he had given to you and to me/
We reap the seed that we sow, he said:

Be someone, be someone, just be who you must be to set yourself free from the chains of ignorant glee/ before we’re sleeping so softly…

With our hands in hand we’ll take off our masks together/ make it past the shoreline/ embrace as times get better/ just stop, and to remember, as now becomes forever/ and never saying never will I…

Not be someone, be someone, just be who I must be/

To set myself free from: lies and self love/ flying high with/ the caged dove/ then soar past a rectory humming a tune hoping I might be free/ oh but we dance while we’re dreaming/

Just to be someone, be someone, just be who we must be to set ourselves free from the chains of ignorant glee/ before we sleep in so softly…

With our hands in hand we’ll take off our masks together/ make it past the shoreline/ embrace as times get better/ just stop, and to remember, as now becomes forever/ and never saying never will I…

Not break me down to a bear-boned frame/ take my time/ bestow my name/ a ground burnt glyph of love and flames/ from worms to flesh and flesh to fame/ yet in fear comes courage/ and from pride comes shame/ love brings peace/ yet with apathy: pain/ light gives me a purpose/ and that purpose is his name…

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change/
The courage to change the things that I can/
And the wisdom to know the difference/
And the wisdom to know the difference…

To be someone, be someone, just be who we must be, to set ourselves free from/ lies and false love/ peering blind through the unknown/ lets trade in our doubts of tomorrow for to free one another from this fate we must juggle or else we must struggle just to be someone…..

Be Someone

Timely; Funkily

Starting over; you bet. Sample: *Marvin Gaye - Heard it through the grapevine*

New Slate

Cruelty and greed abound. Help the weak if you are strong. *sample: Bob Marley and the wailers — no more trouble*

Cruelty and Greed

Mixed and remastered by STUPASTA https://on.soundcloud.com/v9zjCeBWMp2vpqKQ9
Lyrics: 
Alright yall This is a bathrobe bside blues theme coming at you
So get ready
Im tired of the bullshit we entertain
In the name of the liberties some abuse
To out others in chains
I’m tired of this helpless indifference to the exchange
Always pain for our pleasure
Or some comfort for shame
Or some comfort 
For shame

Impatience been growing
Impotency showing
Long for the power to instill the urge overflowing
For the progress I know we can achieve
Keeps me going
Yall open your eyes take back our power
Let’s fuckin show them.

Ain’t no my me mine perspective got shot on the power of this collective.

Wasting time while people die
Unbiased lies
Keep us complacent 
Leave us faceless

Bathrobe B-side Blues Thematic

Hasta deciembre (until December)
El pueblo ha hablado (the people have spoken)
Preparate para enero (prepare yourself for January)
Hay llegado invierno neon (neon winter has arrived)

El pueblo ha hablado
Break it the fuck down
The constructs of hateful clowns
Who patronize, imprison the brown skinned faces
Pantomimed in their ivory places
Cultures and cuisines appropriated
Incorporated, self-created stall
At the black market for heroin and fentanyl
Demographically scape-goated
By a population addicted 
To the same exact drugs US pharmaceutical companies created in the 90s and through our doctors propagated, fed the lie, our anger misdirected, but I don’t think it’s too late yet.

Hasta deciembre
Preparate para inero
El pueblo ha hablado
Hay llegado invierno neon 

Hasta deciembre (until December)
Uno es todo a los odiados y amados (one is all to the hated and loved)
Cuando el silencio es violencia (when the silence is violence)
Muy frio e resonante (very cold and echoing)
Pero, el pueblo ha hablado (but the people have spoken)

Fuck the crown on its neon knoll idol to the ignorant crowds of xenophobic assholes to whom their grandeur sold the conciliatory comfort of stupidity, like the transformation of the hippies post-60s, relax on them laurels, get rich quick, become a Nazi, performative at best to convince one’s self and everybody else that there’s some moral justification in treating refugees, children, dreamers like insects. Our humanity knows, we’ve been down this road, darkness infecting like an untreated mold, but I feel our power growing, like I’ve gotta do something and I can’t be the only one.

Hasta deciembre
Preparate para inero
El pueblo ha hablado
Hay llegado invierno neon 

Solo el Diablo (only the devil)
Baile en el fuego (dances in the fire)

Hasta deciembre
Preparate para inero
El pueblo ha hablado
Hay llegado invierno neon

Hasta Deciembre

Every spring there is a hope imparted by the surrounding environment of growth; yet, there is also a sadness for another season closer to the end.

And Whistling Birds Dub

A cover of one of my favorite Pixies songs, “Dancing the Manta Ray.” Link to their YouTube and video below.

https://youtu.be/NFSDj4rmFu4?si=p5gPVRb0cEVARd2S

Bailando la Manta Raya (demo take No. 13)

Truth is only the beginning of the lie we tell ourselves. Out of fear spreads, into violence, like a disease. Boldly. Capricious. An ethos. Swaying distaste remains of the lie, of the lie of the lie we tell ourselves: faceless belief. No need to be afraid.

Truth is only the beginning, of the lie we tell ourselves, out of fear spreads , like a disease, into violence. Of grace, capricious distaste, when the other remains, a faceless enemy of belief. Of an ethos, dried and curled, swaying boldly into this brave new world. No need to be afraid.

Of the Lie (Eerie Remix)…

Restless Idiot

Slender connections of soul grabbing at confectionary solaces 
But I don’t know what I’m supposed to say
Hello?
It’s just me stuck here at the window
Like a fly that’s been smashed it’s guts splashed all over the fuckin glass
Splat
Pain won’t go away not it’s the same everyday bloodred hatefed angry thoughts
Sleepless nights
Such vivid dreams
I can’t escape the feeling that I might be slightly lost
Lost lost
Can’t escape that feeling
The minutes the hours the seconds the days
Splat
Hello?
Rusting cracking mosaically cracking
Can’t seem to see the play for the act yet the actor keeps acting
Splat
Pain won’t go away not it’s the same everyday bloodred hatefed angry thoughts
Sleepless nights
Such vivid dreams
I can’t escape the feeling that I might be slightly lost

Splat

It’s hard waking up when you don’t give a fuck / 
About the idols that they sell or the platitudes they tell us /
Daily wade through the muck of each banal interaction /

Left wasting away by wicked distractions /
Blind to their chill-ass redactions /
Read between the money or just follow the line /
And find the cracks in the bars of the cage you can’t see /
yet you’re still confined….

To just waiting impatient on our time to shine / 
Well the hour is now, the revolution is nigh /
No it’s not in your head, it’s not just you /
The illusion is dead, we the sleepers can see it too /

Left wasting away by wicked distractions /
Blind to their chill-ass redactions /
Read between the money or just follow the line /
And find the cracks in the bars of the cage you can’t see /
yet you’re still confined….

It’s hard to wanna work when you don’t give a fuck /
About the profit they extract, when always down on our luck /
For every dollar you spend, and every fraction you earn /
We pay our tithes to the gods of transaction in due turn /

Left wasting away by wicked distractions /
Blind to their chill-ass redactions /
Read between the money or just follow the line /
And find the cracks in the bars of the cage you can’t see /
yet you’re still confined….

C.A.R.

Herathorne

When did I let myself become a number?
It takes a lifetime.

It takes a lifetime to be one’s self
It takes being brave in the face of the fear of failure to jump blindly from the shelf,
And to walk through the fire of this chaotic question mark that insists we play our part
Until the darkness which claims us before life and after do we start—
From the body that bursts 
dramatic when the enigmatic cipher of life again and again and again restarts 
as a mere genetic hyphen prepared for the dance as a stagnate static spark, 
or the only living chance we have to truly make our mark.

There is one mind common among all individual humans.
When did I let myself become a number?
It takes a lifetime.

It takes vision through the disparities of grace 
To place one’s self above the tendrils of aspiration, and without hesitation 
leave behind the ladder we are each expected to climb
Rather, diving into the roil and accepting as we must:
That we only deem each other righteous or evil, yet to our gods all things are good and just

Yet to our gods all things are good and just.

There is one mind common among all individual humans.

All things are good and just. 

It takes a lifetime.

Herathorne

Choking on the smoke of a soul cleansing fire amongst the ancient trunks of such towering mountains stand 

Everybody is searching for something

Dry their river washed feet
Glossy stare reflecting sweet anticipation for nostalgic scene of unbroken snow

Everybody is searching for something
Come join us

In a small town congregation 
Of wrinkled eyes and fed by strangers
Reminds me of who I thought I was born to be

Everybody is searching for something

Come join us 

Soul cleansing fire
River washed feet
Dour amens echoing under rapturous hallelujahs

Waiting for Doug

What’s Modern Is…

Fear’s the conundrum of the cave-stick been up and coming
Raging through the ages built of artificial cages
Dogmatic damnation blissfully ignorant non-communication without explanation
Of who wrote the first word when righteous eagerly had overheard the ideologies they raised in a painted toast
I might be crazier than most but I can hear the truth upwelling in my bones like the stones of a henge retaining ancient wisdom letting overflowing knowledge in
A natural conduit for blurry reflections and updated connections as technology is upgraded perfected and then outdated 
Rejected by a state that a made us an international nation
So frightened delighted no not quite enlightened by this ever growing ravenous institutionalized titan 

What’s modern is that 75% of your life is made up of leeches and solaces

Hazards on the wall cast shadows over all temptations and fears acquisitive naive non-contributive inward perspective uninspiring selective with no attempt to evolve their our genetics left defective
Always competitive with a history repetitive now anxiety sells sedatives there’s hatred between relatives
Rhetoric unintelligible and intending to divide by whatever means make us if the ends should justify
Autocracy greed fatalistic tribalism hypocrisy cruelty everything we ought not to be let’s avert a catastrophe take back our humanity no matter what in the end it’s gonna be what it’s gotta be

What’s Modern Is…

Lost in an Alley Instrumental

I know that the trouble I go to is useless, and my urgings do not give me the chimerical pleasure of hoping for our reformation: I know that they will ridicule me because I love them and my maxims for they profit them. I know that they will be no less eager for Glory and Money after I have convinced them that these very passions are the source of all their ills, and that they are wicked because of the one and miserable because of the other. I am certain that they will tax as folly my scorn for these objects of their aspirations and labor.

Yet I would rather be the butt of their ridicule than a party to their errors, and regardless of what may be their duty, mine is to tell them the truth, or what I have seen to be the truth, yet a more powerful voice will have to make them love it.

Connais ton amour-propre 

The people let themselves be oppressed only so far as they become swept up in blind ambitions; and, looking below more than above themselves, come to cover domination nearer than independence, consenting to bear chains so that they might impose chains on others in turn. It’s nearly impossible to reduce to obedience someone who does not seek to command, and even the wittiest politician would never succeed in subjugating those  whose only wish was to be free.

But inequality spreads readily among ambitious and cowardly souls, ever-ready to take their chance on fortune, almost equally prepared to rule or to serve, depending only on whether it favors or foils them. 

There is no subjection so perfect as that which draws forth the veil of freedom. Everyone is born free, yet everywhere they are in chains, and the one who thinks himself the master of others remains still a greater slave than they. 

And if force should compel one’s obedience, there is no need to invoke our duty to obey.

Connais ton amour-propre

Disco Rousseau

Time eludes contentment
We illustrate it laterally hence 
Time eludes us
Time lines
Body odor
Cigarette butts
Makes me wonder:
If tomorrow is today
Is time then but a circle 
Or is it nothing?
Is it nothing at all?

Time carries us all 
But that moment always comes when we must carry it
Time carries us all
We illustrate it laterally
Hence,

Time is a fascination
Analog obsession
Something we spend each waking minute attempting to forget
When it is that which exists in every breath
Yet it is still a futility to acknowledge it
Because it means nothing,
It means nothing at all.

Analog Obsession

Dragging one’s hand down the iron railing of a public stairwell

Everything is fine
In the end 
We’ll get what we paid for

Well, the pain
It comes and goes

Like the like the sound of a thousand soles in a New York City subway circa 1999 
whistling for their train

I don’t want to inform them
I want them to see

That
Everything  is fine 
in the end 
We’ll get what we paid for

Life must taste differently in the dark
Sticky
Just a pack of frightened animals clinging to sharpened air

Everything is fine in the end we’ll get what we paid for.

Sticky #2

I am primarily a writer, poet, and lyricist. I play several instruments and the process of recording, arranging, and producing tracks is my catharsis. I started playing bass and guitar in bands in the early 2000’s. I enjoy creating music with a cinematic feel that offers the listener the ability to envision a story unfold in waves. Life is a soundtrack. 

Influences: Talking Heads, Sublime, Paul Simon, Meat Puppets, the Pixies, Neil Young.

Currently, I am operating solo; trying to improve my skills as a musician and producer while advancing my career as an artist. I write, record, and produce tracks in my garage; often incorporating philosophy, religious, and socio-political themes in my work— life needs a soundtrack. 

I identify the genre of my music as “trip hop” as I have recently started experimenting with more retro-electronic and hip-hop themes, but I often find myself drawn to acoustic folk, punk, and reggae as well. I hope to start releasing some better acoustic recordings in the future. Ultimately, I seek to learn and improve. Just trying to be myself and see where this may take me.

Bathrobe B-sider

Pinned to spotlight

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