1. |
leslie
03:31
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I’ll be in New York City
When my organs rush to their feet
They’ll make their escape
With not much fuss from me
I’m sure they’ll find a hotel
Off the remains of Bleeker street
I’ll be back at that horrid address
Waiting for the waitress to drop the check
Analyzing the artifacts
Blowing in from 14th and Grand
And when the sun comes to the stained glass rooms
I’ll take the cue
I’ll find that hotel, and ask for what room
My organs went too
I’ll not knock, i’ll not stay
I’ll pay for what they got and let them go on their way
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2. |
Silver Awning Merchants
03:31
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Oh, silver awning merchants
Trying to take advantage of my jet lag
But I can’t blame them
When i’m the one taking up their time
Oh, uniformed rain marching to the sound
Of its own body meeting the ground
It comes out as a chant of
Ambages
Oh, calm down
You’re turning sentimental
Calm down, calm down
There’s no use in getting that loud
Oh, drifting through doorways
Dragging my feet through the air
Getting caught in the glow
Orbiting the Apollo
Oh, calm down
You’re turning sentimental
Calm down, calm down
There’s no use in getting that loud
Washed out in technicolor
Come on, gimme a story
Or has it gone by me
All swollen
I watched you catch ablaze
On a million televisions
So tell me, what are those satellites
Forecasting for tonight
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3. |
||||
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I’m on the surface of sleep
Where else is there to be
When you’re dancing fifteen stories
Above a marquee
Counting on clocks to pursue
The hours
Counting on pillars to hold up
The towers
Before the Hudson rips me in two
Before the ambulance comes into view
Before the morgue paints my face
To ensure that i’m still awake
I’m tossed into midnight again
With impressions of cabinets and kitchenettes
All craving their place upon a
Canvas
Like some great lost
Ballet
Like some long forgotten
Play
Before the Hudson rips me in two
Before the ambulance comes into view
Before the morgue paints my face
To ensure that i’m still awake
Before the Hudson rips me in two
Before the ambulance comes into view
Before the morgue paints my face
To ensure that i’m still awake
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4. |
Palmer House Blues
05:55
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It’s 2 AM at the Palmer house, someone’s life is about to end
Outside there’s a Winnebago the brown stripes are turning red
I could have left the room but instead I stayed
The night was just beginning and I hadn’t got its name
I was caught in kerosene when I saw the writing on the wall
The clocks seemed hurt that I hadn’t left them room to talk
But distance is a pleasure, an emancipated thief
And companies a drag, a concubine to grief
In a pair of borrowed shoes, the night avoided shades of blue
No matter how hard it tried, it could not maneuver the truth
And though I would never conjecture
I could make a guess, that this feeling won’t pass
In a scene up on the roof, I watched the curtains move
The night collapsed in photographs then stared at me so cruel
The stairs began to quote a phrase, one that I shouldn’t recognize
A fountain came from the halls and flooded both my eyes
Below the basement, my skin was stiff, I coughed and made my exit
I would have called a cab but I couldn’t make a call
An ambulance came but I never saw them leave
I only caught the night look back at the building and then at me
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5. |
||||
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Theres a window turning purple tonight
With its cul-de-sac charm
Despite it being bookended
By courtrooms and bars
Theres a window turning purple tonight
Reflecting off Teegarden’s star
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6. |
mus4
06:42
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I got a chance to watch the sun really
Rise
I got a chance to see it for what it
Was
A late arrival, in a black dress
Fit with a straw hat
There’s no repetition in these moments
Ricocheting towards the ceiling, merging to
The roof
Greeting the horizon as an
Heirloom
While the sun cracked up overseas
Caving to midnights unease
There won’t be repetition in moments like these
I got a chance to watch the sun really rise
It come down from its place and slipped into mine
I got a chance to see for what it wasn’t
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7. |
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Waking up north of West fourth street
Deep in the afternoon
With just enough day left
To stagger out the room
Assembling a silence
To break thorough the sirens
Song
Submerged in vacant lots, next to high fashion cults
The buildings dimmed their pulse
While laying waste to the sleep deprived sparks
That pay rent to Bryant Park
Now the remnants of those residents
Are closing in on the nights last
Serenade
Now West fourth invites me over
And tells me how its been
Laying low near Washington Square
Bickering at The Bitter End
Where John still plays the hits
From 9 PM till
Six
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Yin Waster Chicago, Illinois
Yin Waster is the musical project from Griffin Mang and Gabe Huff. Together the pair craft "Gas Station Folk" a combination of groovy psychedelic riffs and pastoral tenderness that is sure to bring bliss to your ears :-)
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