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I will try
to keep my mouth shut
because I know
there's so much more
praise in silence
Render it
in concrete and
all our eyesores.
This wire fence
cuts right through
our hearts and all our trees.
Ohio brings me sunflowers,
your hair is wrapped up in my bones.
I can taste the pollen on your skin
and it sets my face to mourning.
I will stay in the fine print (write it up),
won't set foot on the front page (write it up).
My words are light as feathers (write it up).
Leave them out in the rain
and watch the birds drop like bricks
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…and I'm feeling so pretty. Some fire this is, dusty old woods are these. Can't we just rest for a moment? No, some ghosts are here; dready old wisps are all coming home, calling home and I'm feeling so pretty. And I'm riding up to that black pass; my hair is in the wind, my eyes are watering and I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm looking down that black pass… we're ready to begin, we're ready for anything and I'm feeling so pretty.
And you know it's only right.
And I loved her so, fragile damsel. No worse for wear, we're okay, we're okay, and I'm okay and I loved her so violent… I know I'm sick and my feet are swollen; my body is blown out anyway. Some venture, loosen me out some venture.
And I'm feeling so pretty.
And you know it's only right.
A genius, they say you're a genius anyway. I think you're bright enough, enough to send him on his way. A grim business this is, so wrong of you to be optimistic. After all, we're living in a failure mode. And I'm out.
Some fire this is, dusty old woods are these. Can't we just rest for a moment?
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Across the glimmering expanse there is no simpler way to say. Shepherds sit on leather couches - anticipation of the day where chandeliers will burn out quickly, umbrellas will invert themselves. Backwards time is a precursor, putting marks on all our houses.
Here we go May 21st, apocalypse is coming now.
Bit your poisoned tooth and let the others become fragile lights. Solenoid eruptions, frozen futures manifest at night. Ermine sultans floundering and from the curled list announce: "Backwards time is a precursor, putting marks on all our houses."
Here we go May 21st, apocalypse is coming now.
Tear it out, rip it off, change the math.
Here we go May 21st, apocalypse is coming now.
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Wrap me up in cotton,
swaddle me in wool,
fold me in the creases of your dress.
I've got holes in my jeans
and my cheeks are burning red.
I'm hanging by a thread around your neck
I can't find enough balloons
to lift me high enough
to keep me from drowning in your lake.
Now I'm laying on the rocks
and I can't work up the nerve
to kiss you with this seaweed on my breath.
I want to know you better.
I can be your house.
Seaweed and sand.
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Every morning I've been playing language games. Stuttering and stammering, mail I don't want to open. Square it off and never touch it, scribble scrawls; say nothing. I can deconstruct your nouns, I'll illuminate your verbs, parts of speech just out of reach. All over our breakfast. Every morning I've been playing.
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rain’s coming
we’ll wait it out
sleep’s coming
we’ll wait it out
walk in my footprints
no matter your doubt
just breathe and walk for miles
and go home without
and when we reach the shore
we’ll see a sight like we’ve never seen before
and when i hold your hand
at that moment we’ll live
the first time in our lives
so dream it out
sleep for miles
dream it out
sleep for miles
sleep for miles
muddy hair and blue eyes
sleep for miles
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7. |
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Your heart is my drum machine, quickening. The beat drops, it's so thick it's sickening. And all I wanna do is pulse. And all I can do is pulse.
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I've been leaning in your doorframes,
climbing up all your walls.
Can I take you off your hinges?
Walking with my hands in my pockets,
dragging my feet at your heels,
the moon pulls me to you.
What are you made of?
Bonfires and old car parts
and stories you told me.
Sitting up at 5 am,
shouting insults in the sun,
phone calls that don't end well.
You can hang me in your closet
after we've drank too much
and you've had enough of me.
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on his hand he could only count to four
the fifth’s just practical jokes
the crowds are teeming with them
that and every cause it seems
those ears are made for gunfire
those ears are made for gunfire
you are the worst kind
and you are exactly what i need
those ears are made for gunfire
those ears are made for gunfire
you are never alone
cause i could sing us all to sleep
now i will try not to make you wait too much longer
i’ll be with you soon
and i will try not to make you wait any longer
stay here with me
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Your heart is my drum machine, quickening. The same lines you write now have vibrated across your eyes and ears and spun behind your forehead for a thousand hours, seething, waiting to be released into the air.
'Hot Air Ballooning' is the genesis of a summer's labors. Three friendships - heartaches and happiness, dirigibles and dirges - are contained within these zeroes and ones.
Download here:
www.mediafire.com?tbbwty9u3s2po4j
released February 22, 2012
The Order of Things:
All music by Hot Air Ballooning.
James played guitar and sang.
Kevin played piano & synthesizers and bass and sang and other things.
Paul played drums & percussion and sang.
Caleb & Noah Miller played saxophone and cornet, respectively.
Engineered by Kevin McCraney.
Mixed by Kevin McCraney and Paul Murphy.
Artwork by Heidi M. Rolf.
Case design by Paul Murphy and Kevin McCraney.
Produced by Hot Air Ballooning.
Everybody did everything.
Thanks everybody.
Look at the track level for more in-depth credits!