its not all bad
at least its not all gone to hell yet
it might get worse
itll probably get worse

new moon for the red white and blue
it’s either world war three or civil war two
ghost wrote speech, cum soaked sheets
blood soaked streets with the inevitable coup

it aint a fit night for man nor child
the air is cold and the aim is wild
it aint a fit night for man nor beast
i’ll be drenched in love in blood soaked streets

WWIII/Civil War II

lately ive been sleeping in a room of mirrors
trying to forget my face
darkness never been so inviting
all i long for is deaths embrace]

when you go to sleep in my dreams
you keep me at your feet
and in the morning I won’t leave

Now i find myself in a bed of splinters
trying to love all that hurts me bad
You just sit atop me breaking dermal barriers
thinking about the bed you had

when you slept with him in love and sin
I can’t keep you from feeling dim
like a light switch about to flip

Nowadays I wish i was a spaceman
cosmonaut floating towards the sun
burnt out ambitions feeling useless 
nothing left but to turn and run

from you in my room with the sheets 
over your perfect crescent moons
i hope i forget you

In a Bed of Splinters

I wanna sail 
through cotton candy clouds 
the river’s upside down
dripping chocolate in my hair
I haven’t got a care 
in the world 
except flying home to you

your frowninig face
youre standing at the door 
vase of roses on the floor
I’m sorry I’m so drunk
another instance of fucking up
but youre just happy 
i didn’t wreck your car

Lost inside my head. 
two suns to guide the way 
walking circles all damn day
I am damned to walk this moon
Hera  ain’t such a pretty view
Stuck on Sisyphus with nothing more to prove

this song was puked out today in a few hours. i hope you like it.

Hera

This is a new recording of an old song, first featured on Summer on Mars.

Sleepless, Silent Nights (Demo)

Steven Glansberg

I wish i were with you
when i’m not with you
i am a wreck

I get all mishapen
lackluster yet brazen
i’m no fun to be around everyone can attest

words go in nothing churns in my head
im a sinkhole (syncope) filled with emptiness
you guessed it
i’m a fucking mess

hope burns out when the sun dies down
There’s a lot of noise but i hear no sound
you guessed it
i’m a fucking mess

I wish i were nothing
when I am something
holding no one’s place

I wish I were absent
from this life so bombastic
I’ll be the void between time and space, your grace

Syncopes

a cover of the greatest rock band in the world! Guided by Voices' Game of Pricks from Alien Lanes

Game of Pricks

candles on let the light leave your bloodstream
and i feel it in my toes theres quicksand up to my knees
touch touch touch brush your face from your window
i can feel it in your lungs the blood pumps crescendo

would it ever feel like a boa in your intestine
like a raging ring of ice to send you back to adolescence
when you smoked to many joints but your diaphragm olympic
and the rush of dopamine kept death at a distance


candles on like the light in your apartment
darkness resides over the place that you once departed
could it ever feel like the bottom of the ocean
if you make your way back home i hope you find what kept you going

but could you ever know or fein the corresponding question
was there a sharpness to the void or a long sustaining lesson?
bottle up your hope and send it sailing towards the morning
you feel softness in the wind. its a plush that keeps you hoping.

Luke McGowan

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