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the bricks might breathe again

by painted saints

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1.
2.
in remembrance of the pottersfield special god she only knows how to follow god we only know how to chime we stand in circles ashen fingers point blame boy you got too tall who do you think you are god damned losers we have to show them what it means to be alive the simple truth is you are useless you hold a piece in our design and so we tired him to the back of a mule canteen strung high over its head backwards into the sun led by the thirst of this only dying one god damned losers we have to show them what it means to be alive the simple truth is you are useless you hold a piece in our design god she only knows how to follow god we only know how to chime we stand in circles ashen fingers point blame boy you got too tall who do you think you are god damned losers we have to show them what it means to be alive the simple truth is you are useless you hold a piece in our design
3.
lights hanging low from heavy cottonwoods my love she overdosed got caught scrawling lines in her arms making tiny maps of love stones caught in the crick of your neck joints stiff by use running into lights hanging low from heavy cattonwoods eyes all pupil when skies turn grey I see her wandering in wickerwork of trees brown skin peels to pink underneath sap coal and her heart on tinderbox display hollow fingertips made of paper mache we run along her spine to feel the cocaine decay and our eyelids hang low sacred hearts bleed hang hang your teeth in heavy cottonwoods eyes all pupil when skies turn grey I see her wandering in wickerwork of trees brown skin peels to pink underneath sap coal and her heart on tinderbox display
4.
tinder 04:33
Tinder my time is spent cotton underneath eyelids my sides are split hanging open needle and thread I’ll stare the same gaze through all time through tooth decay my spine is laid underneath god and debris and the cotton undertheath my skin hang me to a wall I cannot feel my limbs seen river to dam silt stopped in your veins sinew snapped trees taken down to wood grain stag creosote burning underneath eyelids spreading through prairies burnt once again wax filled skin all for sleeping deep in grass buckshot under muscle under tissue under tin and the breath we breathed was kindling to your lust I am tinder mounted to a wall collecting dust
5.
the bricks might breathe again god only knows when we seem to be amused god only knows and we crawl back backs are caving in and the bricks might breathe again and we hold stumbling breathe and we wait so patiently stand on bended knee the only thing we’ve owned is a matchbox filled with hope and at the end of the road all the numbers line up we swell with rusted hope along the dotted line we grope for a pen to sign away till the closing bell rings cash tethered tooth and nail we take our hit so patiently fault lines crack entirely the wheels beneath our feet turn ceaselessly to pull us down the line I know I sold my sins up to know boxes of lint and a suitcase dented in bricks are coughing caving in and the dust that climbs our lungs might do us in it sinks in ink to line the checks and the stop clock becomes our god and we wait to patiently stand on bended knee we take our hit so patiently fault lines crack entirely the wheels beneath our feet turn ceaselessly to pull us down the line I know I sold my sins up to know
6.
paladin whine although arms reach we are along on a long road home the voice of the weeds carries us on to stagger over codeine verse one last time paladin whine tripping over telephone lines we lived the highways schemes broken down curled in my seat waiting in stations this town is cold spent my days in soledad walls counting the white lines of these highway miles grass is creeping over twin peaks lines tripping over telephone lines
7.
8.
the lament 01:41
9.
oh comely 06:59
Oh Comely by Jeff Mangum Oh comely I will be with you when you lose your breath Chasing the only meaningful memory you thought you had left With some pretty bright and bubbly terrible scene That was doing her thing on your chest But oh comely It isn't as pretty as you'd like to guess Oh comely All of your friends are letting you blow Bristling and ugly Bursting with fruits falling out from the holes Of some pretty bright and bubbly friend You could need to say comforting things in your ear But oh comely There isn't such one friend that you could find here Standing next to me He's only my enemy I'll crush him with everything I own Your father made fetuses With flesh licking ladies While you and your mother Were asleep in the trailer park Thunderous sparks from the dark of the stadiums The music and medicine you needed for comforting So make all your fat fleshy fingers to moving And pluck all your silly strings And bend all your notes for me Soft silly music is meaningful magical The movements were beautiful All in your ovaries All of them milking with green fleshy flowers While powerful pistons were sugary sweet machines Smelling of semen all under the garden Was all you were needing when you still believed in me And I know they buried her body with others Her sister and mother and 500 families And will she remember me 50 years later I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine Know all your enemies We know who are enemies are
10.
the fat kid rides his bike in the snow my timing is off today my feet they won’t seen to stay in line I walk with gravel buried eyes and without my eyes I can’t be seen I ride my bike through drifts of snow well don’t you know you can’t be seen teeth cut out of stainless steel line up at my heels and we’re away I might never stop at all until the buildings turn inches tall and the sleet stings into my eyes wheels turn spokes sing and the cold air whines and we all know we all should know the stutter climbs another rung past sleeping cars blanketed velveteen my gears and chains machines make for better days I look over my shoulder at horsetooth smiling back and remember to breathe past prairie dog towns and fence posts bleached the street lights reach to the edge of town fingers of taped handle bars my tires leave jagged scars in snow to prove I’ve been I ride me bike through drifts of snow well don’t you know you can’t be seen teeth cut out of stainless steel line up at my heels and we’re away and we all know we all should know the stutter climbs another rung I might never stop at all until the buildings turn inches tall and the sleet stings into my eyes wheels turn spokes sing and the cold air whines

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released October 1, 2007

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painted saints Minneapolis, Minnesota

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