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Songs Of Static & Celerity

by Little King Trash Mouth

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1.
I still remember having dreams Wrought with palpable anxieties Of not making due of not passing class Of missing assignments and of grades sucking ass That was in June, and I was out in May Had no more homework & no more essays And in august I slid down along the coast Traded the Hudson for A South Sun so blinding But the summer never ended It stays 80 here forever I don’t get fall or winter And I don’t get back to school I don’t get mountain ranges And no kisses in snowfall And I get surrounded By anxieties on all sides Thought it was so compartmental But vibes fade everything, afterthoughts are all I see
2.
Just let me sink Into these 4 walls Deductively speaking; The polar of movement I can strap myself to bike wheels But can only really go so far Before my legs just fail me And I careen into oncoming traffic I wanna be dragged by the Sunlight To expose my faults and fraying I wanna crash into the Moon And make hurricanes on my way out It must be better than just having My flesh fall slow off bone like this Yeah it's slow to leaf through palm trees But it's better than sleeping through snow And it's getting boring leafing through pages I write until I am broke And be broken until I'm fixed But it's just not gonna make this place any less shit So let me melt Into my bedposts I'll go to Miami one day But not being so damn tired I can burn all of my bridges But not overcome this fear of heights And I can swim right through the ocean But get pissed off at the waves It's fucking boring Being misunderstood Like strip mall nirvana and no Internet My skin is drying out While I'm keeping; 90% humidity and through 80's through the Winter So let me rot in Pompano Keep the cold to myself I'll fill the gaps of ice life by slipping on my shit nights And Blizzard games past midnight
3.
Thought I could coast off And just sleep through the winter Stand on an island Till it starts moving I was mistaken – and I learn that like daily Just learn your lessons, while it still can make a difference Board a ship sailing And swim under a big bridge Struggle through the storm front And fistfight with wind gusts I was mistaken – to ever confront the weather Just learn my lessons, and I’ll learn them the hard way Lemonade over crushed ice Sharing pizza on sun baked rocks Movies on a rainy day Riding swings when it’s Sunshiney Think I’m writing about a past when it’s playing on present A song about all the mistakes When you have to start to decision make Giving up on indecision Tussling with indecision Waiting for the summer Just to complain about the heat Thought I could find it If I took half a year for sleeping But I’m not as strong as, And I can’t lift it past dream-scapes I was mistaken – to take on that weak tack Make a body of lazing and see where that takes me
4.
Let me explain Back when I was 19 I was more of a Good Punk Living out of my heavy backpack I just didn’t give much of a fuck Went to enough concerts punk shows in basements Met enough of Jersey locals Stepped on enough of these soft toes Alienated enough that I was rough But now I’ve got a desktop computer It’s as thick as my chest and it is comforting I’ve slept in my bed for a couple of months now And this skateboard doesn’t signal anything I’m doing fine, I’m doing well No never mind that, I’m doing swell I’m a bore, I’m a whore Well, I’m really just unsure I’ve been around, been more intense But it might have just been circumstance Cuz I’m as lame as any other human being So let us see, I’ve got 2 large hard drives And one solid for my C: When you get your life onto machine It’s only natural that you become more of a machine Don’t get me wrong Kaciznsky wasn’t right But he wasn’t quite left either He mighta seen a scrawl drawn on the bathroom wall Of this technoidiocracy I live Cuz now I’ve got some really good headphones But don’t take them around because I want them to keep working I’ve not left my house for a couple of a days now And a vacuum can start to write all my songs I’m doing shit, no hiding it And losing my faith bit by bit I’m a bore, just a big fat snore Of this dope stagnation I’m sure Maybe I’ve been cool or always a tool Let me know or I’ll just play the fool But now I’m lame for sure let me log out Fuck it all, let’s just say this is the stone around my neck It weighs like 20 pounds or some shit And I get pretty scared of losing it I think I’m giving too much of a fuck Just so you know, I’m always slacking on my ethos Praxis coward or a slacker; Anti-labor & this couch is my picket line But I’ll be playing more RPG’s here tonight I’m doing great, it’s no debate, so nevermind that shit always breaks Give me a drink, and make it soft, but I won’t turn it down if it’s not Computer’s crash, 5 TB stuffed, it's just another consumptive rut And Sisyphus is just like work and capital
5.
Yeah I'm a boy But what has it got me? Just annoying straight girls & half-dead feelings But I'm not giving up or putting down All of my being Or the sad way I'm grinning Can just try to be happy and share it so freely But I gotta learn to love myself for now Cuz I can't be an afterthought to myself Be the dustiest toy on a rickety shelf You can't keep me & make me feel less then So long as I tell myself that I am important Cuz I know There are fish & trees & honey & bees And fires for me to live by I got taught about love & care But I can start to throw some back to myself
6.
Share this – drink this moment here Make eyes, give faces, below & above We should have nothing much left here to fear Graffiti at Glenwood reads; “Change starts with love” This will make clear; I’ll make sense of the summer Throughout the fall I called to listen But I can’t be sure I even listened Selfish, less than shit – lend me an ear I’ll just whine about this lot of living There'll be pride one day soon but for now forget it My guitar, my cadence, each crack tightly wound But it just makes me less sure than I have ever been Makes pictures of disaster that I would sooner skirt Algernon to Glenwood ave from when these feelings didn't hurt But why should this life be pulled taut over every single part? Talking & living I'm still the only one who gets me But maybe I shouldn’t be got & this is my best My life just hunched over when the songs play It crosses my mind, time over time, it's constant I’m constantly falling, of a few different kinds It's just a little misshapen sort of dead ring Life torn up by all sorts of love-type things No helping it, just a whole mess of love-type things
7.
Stretching out my shirt if I’m not simply tearing it Is it gaining weight or is everything aging with me? It’s not a question That I want answered Picking up a habit hoping hoping that it’ll make me interesting Never joining dating sites cuz I lack that sort of confidence Feeling like a mess but don’t ever try to fix me Not feeling so great lately it’s really better to forget it I’ve not spent the time at places like in college Seeing cool people or just being around them Absorbing any vibes In paper cups I’m begging Without injury in my art I was doing fucking fine I didn’t need to hurt to express the things I wanted to Sleep alone Sleep alone forever
8.
I’m wasting your time Why haven’t you figured that out yet? I care more about this stupid music And my contracts with made-up deadlines Than about anybody I see on the day-to-day But let’s study together sometime And I can bring along my stupid problems And maybe even snacks to eat Just pity stupid little me For feeling how I do in the first goddamn place We’re saving this time In hand holding mid-squeezes I care as much about this moment here As I have about this whole damn life This is special, and I really think I care (And care is rare, so savor it I don't wanna lose my feeling For once in my life I don't) But I’m mess, that I know, and don’t wanna Drag anybody down – but please support me And I can tank for you and take it all But savor that discordance and start eating the same tropes I see everyone here’s in the same kinda mess And if I think too hard about it The second thought will start to become the top dog I wouldn’t recommend that you share a space, so please I’ll give you 5 more fucking seconds till you’re fully sick of me This might just be wasting time I haven’t figured that out yet And nothing too special But I’ll see to that in my future ‘Till then I’ll just rest on My Future 86 Might just be making time Out of time that I don’t have No time for wasting time, I’ll do it anyway And work out on a future Mask off, mask on, mask on (No time for wasting for wasting time Got time, got time on my mind)
9.
If my life didn’t matter I wouldn’t care about art But if life gets too boring I’ll think that it got passé Like a series ran it seasons and then ran out of ideas And I’ll just toss it away, resign myself to cold blues Mourning and bitching, an evening in life Everyone second of age twenty-two Just back to my regrets Drowning and ash cigarettes Hope I can harvest inspiration In this dry spell incantation Make a magic of a casting A broadcast fuzz in breath of fasting Hope I can make a thing worth living And not move back home with nothing doing Make a triumphant reprise of this mess And be the most talented and dauntless If life didn’t matter I wouldn’t care about the plot Maybe I’m being over-dramatic but I can’t help feel Evan fucked up Divorced parents, new redux Resign myself to the same old shit Exiled, pines die, an evergreen grave A new style to dragging your feet Leaving my past Overeating & sleeping all day That’s me in the passenger seat and I watch but don’t guide And see but don’t receive It’s a closed circle on the inside or out and Feels the place don’t exist Where I can just be myself To mosh & crash, talk trash & clean my floors If life was too perfect I wouldn’t be good at art With something to bitch for I have songs left to write The day that I don’t want to break up the state Will be so slow and sleepy and I’ll probably just leave Cinders and sondering, creating my days Trying to be more fulfilled in that way Aligning my spine Clean hair, and dirt, small-time dreams Hope I can harvest art & meaning Shape it to something worth believing Shape it to a work I put faith in Make a sketch I’ll mold to living And I'll see where that’ll put me Let that motivate me Motivate me all the way to burning logs Burning building, molotovs, and Sleep and... I still remember the X’s on my hands But I was a lot younger, yeah, a lot younger back then Take me back home to something like a home at all
10.
All my bullshit has been used up And I'm so sick of bitter old photos And dust caking lifetimes My years is paved & concrete-covered I stamp my feet & I feel them down there Making beds with worm shit high tides It's a cliché but I need some good vibes
11.
These are songs I didn’t make But they shaped my personality Like a ‘94 album That I listened on repeat Throughout high school & throughout depression And it shares my anniversary It will grow old just like I will Unlike me songs will stay the same forever But I don’t hear the Holy Bible In the same way that I used to Back when I was self-hating and uncool But it’s alright I still have Chocolate & Cheese And it’s OK I still have My religion & Bible of blasphemy And Crooked Rain to wet my shoes Be a Loser like No One Else I know Be ready for when the Kite String begins to Pop And it’s more important than ever to know How to Clean Everything around me And it’ll make a big damn difference To make a meaningful difference Between Tongue Biting emo tape trading I grew up in a small town just north of the city of New York I was never rich enough to feel like I belonged there And I was never street enough to be respected or liked Or conventional enough to be a theater kid either So I listened to a bunch of old music to displace into a time when I could be more a part and not so apart Then I dressed and talked and acted like it was real, until on some level, it was But I couldn’t overcome Imposter Syndrome and I couldn’t just rip off 80’s indie rock bands forever so I had to make myself into something And I didn’t know what that something is but I knew that I wanted it, because then I could be more than just a bunch of cells amalgamated into flesh And take the leap into being, and art, and all sorts of shit like that And that’s why... (1-2 fuck you, 3-4 sing more) It’s so important to make something of your music Cuz it’s snapshot and culture And the language people are speaking It’s meaning on macro and micro So if say something is trash I don’t just mean just that the song is bad I mean; “It’s got no story or emotion And it speaks only to money” And money’s just to fill the cracks the last I checked So give me a song I can Hum to myself while walking home In the winter after a sweaty show That tells me of the moment and the buildings and heartbeats It’s just a need I’ve not filled out quite yet
12.
Cool & smooth & on the block I’m in love with my indie haircut You should love my indie haircut My stickers guitar and lazy singing And my cool kid politics I’m the queen of absolutely nothing While I deftly hold onto what is killing me But you don’t, you don’t gotta know that I wanna be yr’ Carrie Brownstein Think I’m cute like Theo Hilton I wanna be yr’ Carrie Brownstein Sing my heart out just like John Galm did I think that you’ve got me all wrong I even have myself all wrong A left hand drawing out the right I am no exception Don’t you even think it More social problems caked with playing guitar I’m not convincing anyone. And nobody is convincing me I’m the queen of absolutely nothing While I pretend to hold this shit together But that’s nothing, that’s nothing that you gotta hear I wanna be ‘yr Carrie Brownstein Make you cry like Molly Fischer I wanna be ‘yr Carrie Brownstein Make some waves like Laura Stevenson I’m the queen of my own domain only Write the songs so oblique, subjective, poetically But that’s not gonna get the Dollar Signs I wanna be yr Carrie Brownstein Shred my throat like Stefan Babcock I wanna be yr Carrie Brownstein Destroy myself just like Jeff Smith did Break my heart like Billy Werner Paint a world like Mogli Squalor Shred this shit like Will Killingsworth Just call out like Jeffrey Lewis *Incomprehensible screaming*
13.
An open road means promises Or at least a change of pace We got exit signs in the rearview Until you scrape at the edge of states It’s got me fucked up, Orlando’s Like an entire world away But it don’t change, you don’t see change Unless you tinker with your brain World’s all sharp colors or greyscale Or back and forth and in between Alpha on her scooter Johnny on the rails Sissy with her thumb out Big fish spinning tall tales Let this inspire me, make desire in me Get to enough defiance Till the foundations bend & break I guess my mind has shifted Or maybe just turned 25 There’s a fraying in the blind spot Where I am and want to be But there’s no excuse, got no damn excuses For putting out my immolation Greeting my future with refusals When you get tired of lethargy spiked with apathy You gotta greet the Sun beating down the roads of Providence Finding out the death of me is something I’ve been postponing constantly A month of rent means no more questions And with no questions I can just stop thinking There’s too much that’s failed in doing That I leave it all in stacks or rain & ruin Feels like I’m giving up on me So why can’t everyone just join me But they see it, what I used to see Now a world ghostly fears laid down so heavy Instead of not being so scared to see myself all broken up Wesley with his keyboard The recordings of the Pod A ramshackle make of beauty That a teenager could dream Not feeling too young but let’s not forget I got a heart that’s beating And it keeps going forward with me Sometimes I think that’s all I need If I could tap & drink so deeply
14.
I worry about myself But I don’t worry about this country Cuz there’s never really justice on stolen land And I only stole myself into new identities As I got older I thought less & less about identity And what I think it really means to me Cuz I believe in so many other things But botherers be botherers and I’ll take that just as is Cuz I can’t be bothering with botherers and fall into their sin It’s time to nap, it’s time to sleep, topped off with ice cream It’s time to leave, it’s time to dream Cuz I’m getting real bored of being bored Wanna girl who dresses like it’s always fall And a boy who has poetry at the very tip of his tongue Where it won’t matter Where I’m going or where I’m from Too many times I find that it doesn’t suit me I put on a new shirt and it’s choking and starchy Well, I found out but it’s too goddamn late Wanna walk down the street be composing in a home place Find out the timeline splint and work a thread and needle through the night And wake up to a sunrise And not past 10 in the morning Sort life out when the day is still young Cuz things only get worse when I think and live off of simple instinct But really… Botherers be botherers and I’ll take that just as is Cuz I can’t be bothering with botherers and fall into their sin It’s not to work it’s not to stress it’s to be clean & serene It’s time to leave the house, maybe Cuz I’m getting real bored of being bored I’m getting real bored of being dead I'm getting real bored of being bored
15.
My bike's brakes brakes no longer work The pads got worn right off My old car has become scrap Hit 95 then driveway grass This car has become crap Mind & melody Inspiration point unknown Come on back to me Before I lose your shape
16.
I grew a beard in July Cuz I wouldn't buy a razor It just grew till it stopped Making my face so itchy Among other bad decisions I have been making lately I grew a beard in July Till I started to kinda like it All patchy and scratchy and frankly a Failed Attempt At Facial Hair But I digress, it's not so different Find a day to shave it And go back to the same me I had left behind & had kept Stored inside my pocket but still... I grew a beard in July Till I started to kinda like it I grew a beard in July Like an allegory I started living I grew a beard in July Till I just quit
17.
I’ve left before & it stung for a little bit Now I wanna leave 1 million times So that I will just stop feeling it Can’t head south so north for colder climes Throw my hands up out the window Cops are closing in on every inch I live for the moments That I wanna where I disappear into memories A sehnsucht time more easy And I party alone in art & artifice A pile of sticks to frame a sunset “Fuck it, 3 more tears in the bucket” I’ve slept alone & I miss it a little bit Willing to try again give me a couch & not a bed Throw it away, clean up the dirty floor Fall off a bike, bruise & scrape, I ain’t 24 Throw my hands out blocking the fall Everything bit of blood reprised in every inch of skin I’m kinda sick Waiting for this coffee to kick in To get something productive To escape all this mundane shit Throw my hands up, givin’ up the ghost Give your praise and retire this old broken host Baby you’re my death pact Unrealized dreams & opiates Failing out ain’t buying in like Wohohohohohoh Baby you’re my lost road Falling asleep & crashing this shit Living a lie & staying silent to die like Wohohohohohoh Abandonment feels so psychotic Like the money & friends just never end Give it a little time and it won’t be so Wohohohohohoh Am I alive when I don’t change my scene for months? Wanna meet more people before I’m totally undone Stop living my worst life start carrying my head high Fill a flush with absinthe and lily whites And feeling like a piece of trash ready for recycling But everything makes me feel like shit Like tryna put stuff out of mind that I might miss It’s a storm that took my roof made the pieces move around Till I drop the ball, fail the test, and lost track of pretty sounds Everything little thing can make me feel like shit Everything is happening but nothing is around me here (It’s like a dream, that I forget, it’s just like a dream that I forgot) I’ve left before & it stung for a little bit Now I wanna leave 1 million times So that I will just start not feeling it I Can’t head out at all so I'll just go back home And throw my hands up, resigning off And giving up on my gen
18.
Songs from when I was seventeen Sad to say, mean the same old things to me But I was a little bit cooler back in the day With a walkman, sneer, and flannel on But it was cool before cool An old-school wreck I'll never amend Till it just became nostalgia For when I could of been something All I've got is a past Where the ceiling spoke right back to me And everything that made some sense Showed itself real plain & clean Shown through super clearly But it's gotten all muddled now Like a scratched up Wii for retirees Or a piano with more dust than keys Hoods up, the way down Is cut through the permafrost With a head high I always lie To make things go down easier But it's a lie that I reprise time after time But it don't make sense Only show things through expression but set fire to my cadence I'm not saying that it's not alright All I'm saying is I'm not gonna turn on the light Might don't make right but that don't mean I'm not gonna fight Punch the clock till hands fall & point the way to something better All I got are vibes Hand-me-down & dusty Everything just fades to dream And life gets cut bloody & lean Fall scenes & school enemies Like an old boring movie The lots & woods I used to run in get paved over all bougie
19.
August 21st 01:27
The air don't care for me I can die, fail my life, starve & fade The air keeps on cycling Clouds form & break Planes land & fly away It's like breath & the release of lungs The breath of '17 The release of '18 I bleed. From sky to the wetlands A trail of crimson on the beach It's washed away in hours By the sea. Goodbye.
20.
When it’s 80 all the time I can never know when it’s cold out And I lose the frame of reference Behind rest & relaxation It’ll be simple & stupid Just like I have been feeling lately Wasting my time Is now every second of the day And getting stressed out Is now perpetual reality I’m cultivating grey hair And getting older in every way I was expecting paradise a place to grow into And found weak winds flatten on broken sails Summer never started, it didn’t really make a difference Lots of things changing Cuz heat changes composition But I am the same person After college & after moving But don’t let anybody know that, let them think That I’m starting to make changes I’ll talk to a friend I knew from high school, And say nothing but, well; “It’s been a long, long, time” I’m waiting on the next step, I’m leaving And I’ll remain real elusive I am a lost wave Crashing on the riverfront I am a shadow Cast by a big palm tree I am ghost Chatting by coffee downtown A little bit of snow That’ll clog up your commute A coworker you once had But you can't recall the name A song that got removed Completely from the internet A long-down drag-out fight That you wish you could just leave A guitar With all the strings cut off A piano With all broken keys I am all of these things I am none of these things I am all of these things I am none of these things I dunno, if anyone thinks of me, too much And that feels like a sad, faded photograph It feels like a photograph in the closet in sepia & faded Do it again, do it again, do it again, do it again Vibes fade, vibes fade, vibes fade Just like a bike with the wheel fell off In a pool house that you forgot Vibes fade to afterthoughts Just like cursed years That you wanna leave behind Into a bag, into july, into the Sun I want to leave behind…

about

An album that's been far too long in the making and at this point has to be forcibly expunged from my being just so I can stop thinking about it.
In all, there have been delays and setbacks time after time. A broken 8-track, numerous side projects that ate up most of my time (including the "Archeology Trilogy", which, somehow, continues to occupy my recording time, even though it's allegedly finished), a bunch of songs that I stopped caring about recording / finishing, an acoustic demo, a few discarded album cover / title concepts, several apocalypses, a broken keyboard, several sets of strings, a new 8-track, a broken microphone, a broken amp, a new amp... I suppose this is just what happens when you take too long to make an album.

This thing has been stewing somewhere in my head since Summer of 2016. I can remember musing on it since shortly after I completed Off-Brand Adult at least, so that's pretty messed up. Getting early ideas while trying to stop myself from going crazy while I was doing a painting job. It's been so long that I don't even feel like those ideas have anything to do with this album as it is now. Let bygones be bygones. Or as we call them in music; "outtakes". Considering Firebombing (3x) was recorded in a haze, Bugbites in a rush, and Off-Brand Adult in a stupor, I'd say it's probably the case that this is the musical project I've worked hardest on in my life. Because I kept chipping away at the thing bit by bit until it built up into something bigger than what I felt even comfortable dealing with.

Then obviously, that's the time that it becomes important to start moving quick, otherwise the beast of creativity will become ever more unaccountable and will probably threaten to swallow me. I had ideas of running to a local community center and recording drums there, but considering the annoyance of that and also my inability to properly record such a thing. I decided instead on smacking around microwaves, tables, cardboard boxes, slabs of stone, and bicycles - that'll show 'em. I have a half-broken 8-track so I record with a shitty set of rechargeable batteries. Convenience is for losers. Except I was forced to buy another 8-track in the process of this. So much for integrity, huh?

The album is organized in some sort of way;

Afterthoughts - Tracks 1 thru 5

Vibes Fade - Tracks 6 thru 10

Rosa - Tracks 11 thru 15

The Cursed Years - 16 thru 20

There may be a meaning to these delineations. Rosa is my bike. She's kind of like... broken now. With all these different parts the question arises; is this a concept album? Probably (not).

Why would I write all of this? Well, "A sociologist might say I am trying to generate a feeling of social superiority".

credits

released April 13, 2020

I did all instrumentation, recording, vocals, songwriting, etc., with a few exceptions;

The "I can burn all of my bridges / but not overcome this fear of height" lyric from Let Me Rot is paraphrased from 37 Cents' "Wingnut Music Box"

(Not So) Good Vibes paraphrases some lyrical elements from William Bonney's "Good Vibes"

I Wanna Be Your Carrie Brownstein is one big reference to Sleater-Kinney's "I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone", also I tossed in a oblique
reference to "The Politics Of Holy Shit I Just Cut My Hand Open On A Broken Bottle" by Johnny Hobo & The Freight Trains

Beard in July references Failed Attempt At Facial Hair by Failed Attempts At Facial Hair, including a rip off of chords.

Millenial Reckless Self-Abandonment Anthem quotes from Lisa: The Painful

There might be other things that are more subtle or I can't really remember at this point.

All visual elements, photos, and design of Album Cover done by me except for the Moon illustration which came from the following webpage;

worldcrafter.wordpress.com/2012/01/28/a-few-more-random-sketches/

And the picture of the demon mask from center right, photographed and included at the request of Joey.

I don't need to tell you this album cover is a tribute to The Beach Boys' "All Summer Long", do I? Well it is.

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Little King Trash Mouth Peekskill, New York

Hi, I'm Little King Trash Mouth. I play ridiculous and sometimes even good songs on guitar and other instruments. I've had too many monikers. Cute firebomb, red roses, ACAB, decolonized and ecological political parity. Most of this music is from manic episodes. ... more

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