A Pattern Language

by Pursesnatchers

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(free) 04:13
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03:19
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04:18
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02:41
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released July 19, 2011

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Pursesnatchers Brooklyn, New York

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Track Name: Forever Overhead
Watch the scenery go. Yeah, you know. This train goes in circles, this train is a tomb. You're the only one here who gets to go home. And anyone who loves you would already know. Watch the scenery go, watch it all on your phone. Shaking signs off because you think you already know. You tried hard to not try at all. In the country of coincidence, the customer is king, in spite of everything. Oh, the winter's been cold since you left me alone. Making shapes in the snow, turning to stone. Floating out the front door, turning into the smoke that's forever overhead. Forever overhead: a balloon around your neck. See the teenagers grow, outrunning their bones. Turning sheets into ropes, sneaking out of their homes. Speaking in code, like they know something you don't. They can probably see right through your face to the bone. Enough to know. Everybody explode everything that we know: everywhere we're aware, everything that we hold. Make it up as you go; pouring paint down the hole. You should already feel it. You should already know -- yeah, I guess you already know.
Track Name: Mechanical Rabbits
Lightning doesn't strike so much as connect things. It balances out the energy that's burning between things. Searching for side roads, I think we're in trouble. We're two snakes eating our own tails -- you're my double. Silicon Valley stayed green all winter. We slept in a storage unit and showered in the sprinklers. Mechanical rabbits, chasing our shadows. We feel the hot breath on our necks and we hear the hounds at our heels, but they'll never catch up to us. Look where it started: back in New England when you were just a kid. Playing TV tag and you were always it. You couldn't blend in. You shouldn't blame them for being little kids. And at this distance it's hide-n-seek again. Look what you started. A pattern language exists in our heads. And so we believe in the chairs where we sit, believe in the airport bars, believe in accidents.
Track Name: Wet Cement
Mirrors and smoke rings, lipstick and glow of TV sets. Staring into me, blinking your eyes like some coquette. Holding on to you, like leaving my prints in wet cement. Soft as subtraction, I'm adding the damage in my head. A change in life, impossible to achieve. How do I know you? I don't remember when we met. It's like we were born here. "Starting over," like you said. "I swear that I'll come back," I say as I smoke your cigarettes. You know that I'm lying, even if I don't know it yet. A change in life is possible. A brand-new life… it's beautiful to believe.
Track Name: A Parting Prayer
Spend the day at the seashore. We'll leave with souvenirs. We'll leave our baby there with his bucket of seashells and with a parting prayer. He'll cry his baby tears. As we drive to the border we'll leave a trail of clues, like bronzed baby shoes. By the light of a new moon, we'll find a road that ends in flowers and stems. Human speech is like a cracked pot on which we beat out rhythms for bears to dance to when we mean to make music to wring tears from the stars.
Track Name: Kissena Park
Watermelon sugar is fine with cinnamon apples and dandelion wine at the start of a stadium night, the moment you feel the effect of the stadium lights. Kissena Park and a kiss in the dark on a closed carousel by the pond. Jumped to a start from the bottle rocket sparks that our friends thought would spoil our fun. Sneaking out onto the pier, we could split a can of beer and linger awhile. You're hard for me to explain. I know you so well but I can't spell your name. Tangled in weeds with our pants at our knees and the chirr of cicadas in the sycamore tree. Sneaking out onto the pier, we could split a can of beer and linger awhile. You're laughing right through your tears. I remember being here when I was a child.
Track Name: Lost in Los Angeles
Trying to say, "You'll be okay," keeps coming out wrong. Surfing the dial on surface streets while the night turns to dawn. Secrets you tell everyone else will die on the vine. You let me crash. Pay you in cash. We're blurring the lines. You're backfiring, grinding all of the gears. Timing's everything. I loved you for years. Only when we're lost in Los Angeles does anything seem clear.
Track Name: Baseball on the Radio
Whenever you're home, it's like baseball on the radio in the evening of a summer afternoon. Everybody's got their hands upon my shoulders. I will keep my eyes on you, so don't move, so be cool. Everybody's trying to turn my questions into answers. I can't act cause I'm always counting seconds 'till you're home. Whenever you're home...
Track Name: Third Body Problem
I dreamt that you and him were suddenly quite tight and trading notes re: my whereabouts last night. I watched you sleep and I could see right through your skin, working hard to hold everything in. I always like to make you wonder what I could do, who I would choose. Nothing you could say could sweep me off my feet. The way I fell, I was such a sight to see. I faked a smile, I put a pencil in my hair. The room was cold. I pretended not to care. Now we're falling out of orbit like lead balloons. We sank too soon. We did the best with what we could, but honest. I always like to make you wonder what I could do, who I would choose. And may the best man win, I guess. And you see through me. You see through me. You pretend to believe me. You're too kind. You pray tonight. You pray tonight for someone just like you, for someone you love. You pray tonight. You pray tonight. You were a sweet one. You were a good one. You pray tonight. You pray tonight. You almost complete me -- only one piece missing. You pray tonight. You pray tonight. Now we're falling out of orbit like lead balloons. We sank too soon. We did the best with what we could.
Track Name: The Transubstantiationalist
Well it feels like I spend most my time cleaning wine off of shirt fronts you spilled while you're nervous. Well I'm not quite a saint, but I might have a prayer if you put in a word for me at my canonization. I know the Pope and I know he knows transubstantiation when he sees it and he sees blood when he's loosening buttons from your shirt front. In the night, near the end, when you yawned with your arms: you reached like a radio tower. Well the buzz and the hum of the night in your room was you sending out casting calls for doctors who will swear you're contagious. I'm not going away. I'm not going away. Every time you see me it's twilight and tragic. You're sick of seeing snow and tuning in static. You're just an empty threat or two away from a crackup. You pray that it passes. His Holiness can be so very persuasive.
Track Name: Waxwings
This feels just like outer space and it's just right. You're awake and you're asleep at the same time. You're on your back in blinding light. You're not the only one who gave up on her dreams in spite of nothing there to stop you. I know your wings are made of wax, but they'll still fly. Never mind your wicked ways hidden inside. When we left home, we thought the best that we could hope for was a map of what got left out of all the places we discovered. It's a blessing to be here. It's your birthright. Still, you're bleeding all the same, yeah, you're bled white. Another dawn, another day we spend avoiding the dusty sealed-off rooms of a hundred thousand empty houses. They'll say what they'll say when we're gone. And they'll say what they'll say when we're gone.