1. |
X's
01:40
|
|
||
If I had a rusty pair of scissors for every time
You told me that you weren’t self-righteous…
Is that what you want to be remembered for?
A solemn row of X’s emblazoned across your chest?
Will they bury you with that pride?
Dig up these roots.
See where they go.
Dig up these roots.
See where they stretch.
I bet they reach into and beneath the reservoir.
I wrote a song and called it “Truce.”
Thought we were done with war.
(There’re life choices, then there’re pulpits
Changing minds, then bully bullshit)
Write a song called “Truce,” and prepare for war.
Write a song called “Truce,” and prepare for war.
Write a song called _____.
|
||||
2. |
Anemone
01:26
|
|
||
The enemy of my friend is my enemy.
And I’m told, conversely, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
This can’t be.
Are all axioms this narrow or petty?
I hope they’re beneath me.
Otherwise, bridges make such brilliant kindling.
|
||||
3. |
God of Wine
03:21
|
|
||
So they burned down the pier.
It's the same every year.
Hang up the open mic, cancel the all-age shows.
And the creek's all dried up, or it's a parking lot.
Pretty soon your youth is a postcard,
Some long-dead holiday in the sun.
You had fun, then you blinked, now it's gone.
Die young, stay pretty.
Go out like James Dean or Marilyn.
Because we all know that they would have done
Slasher film cameos, or slummed on witless infomercials.
So I buried a friend.
Another textbook violent end.
Shit, I had it all planned.
We were going to start a band.
Sure, I'll get older.
He'll stay twenty-one.
Forever throwing scenesters to the lions.
No tumors, no kidney stones,
No taxes, no bankruptcy,
No pits of despair on New Year's Eve,
No offshore oil drilling,
No laugh lines, no steady decline,
Just dying young like the god of wine.
|
||||
4. |
All Caps
03:48
|
|
||
When Lowe does smack he stacks his dominos.
And he looks for signs of God like palindromes.
One day, he sees a billboard on the wise city bus.
It says “Where to, friend?” surrounded by arrows in conflict.
When Lowe does smack he stacks his dominos
In Stonehenge castles and in ordered rows,
Beneath the freeway overpass with its rushing cars.
He likes to lie under its mass and it feel it shake.
We used to sit and drink at the levee,
Thinking how we could live free.
No names up on the marquis,
No diamonds to pick our teeth.
To hell with pedigree.
|
If you like San Narciso, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp