1. |
||||
|
I watched a man kill another man on camera.
Talked calmly of it sitting at my table.
Moved from talk of a television show
To the terror that was thrown upon our screens.
What have we won to know as one,
to watch, discuss, and rerun;
Re-watch, discuss again, defend, or take to trying
while we
Watch a man kill another man on camera,
Watch his family fall to pieces like a scene
That we watch on the television shows
That are all my people ever choose to see.
What has to be to take our feeling from our entertainment?
What will we be when all we need is somebody dying?
Everywhere they howl like a chorus,
Everything titties, guns and lawyers.
If titties, guns, and lawyers are all we ever see,
Then titties, guns, and lawyers are all we'll ever be.
|
||||
2. |
The Easily Recorded
04:04
|
|||
|
With my hands in my pockets
I go out into the day,
Wondering fortunately,
With my belly well at peace
And nothing real to complain of,
With the all within my reach
And every thought that you can think of
In my fingers telling me
That there is no more love,
There is no more love,
There is no more love
Left for anyone these days.
And there is no more time,
There is only trying,
With the endless choices
How to make it all worthwhile.
And there is no more love.
So I think of the days
Not so far from where we stand,
Of a person walking homeward,
Something beautiful in hand
That they saved up for days
And then picked from what was there.
Now you think of anything
And within seconds it appears
And there is no more love,
There is no more love,
There is no more holding
On to anything these days.
And there are only lives
That we hopeful try,
But without really finding
What it means to be someone.
And there is no more love.
We, the easily recorded
Tell our stories, making waves
Of the hopes to which we're going.
We, the age that beyond golden,
When recorded in the next
Will be the focus of their aim.
So you have to know that
There is no more love.
There is no more love,
There is no more love
Left for anyone these days.
And there is no more time,
There are only minds
And believe me I'm
Not the only one
Trying to fight for mine.
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
And when the day becomes, I rise and clear my lungs
And move until I find my just because.
Standing in my underwear for a half an hour just for one
Picture of the way the morning's coming through my window.
And she's beside me with her 5D, smiling
And no one's even speaking just because we're in love,
Hopefully one day with each other or one day with some
Respective other, but for now it's just the sun
And how familiar places become one with it.
I like driving with no plan or reason
And when I was a little bit younger to simply do that was so much easier.
But I have this friend who is a poet and he believes that I shouldn't say that
Just because, when Whitman was my age he'd barely started
And then I argue how who started what I'm doing
All were done and timeless long before where I am was what he was.
And so I walk, take my time, go back to the words
That we'd spoke, and though I'm almost where I had seen that I'd be
It is not exactly the way that I dreamed, but the sun has a way
Of taking that which you've seen and making what has been
Into something I'd never thought that I'd be
And what was now seems, so very different as we
Walk together hand in hand,
Talking(thinking) how each step so carefully planned
Could within seconds send us face first falling
To the concrete crawling
And god Damn! My perfect plan!
All that I thought that I am
Could in just a moment fall and shatter
Into completely different fragments
As we both shiver, fingers clasping,
Thinking how'd we'd both, so savage,
Acted like we knew a damn thing
When actually all that we have,
All that we can,
All will remain and change at one small stroke of the sun's hand.
|
||||
4. |
A Gusting April
05:06
|
|||
|
Neo Impressionists
On a church piano
In the far corner
Of the carpeted hall.
Lyre is the mouth
Letting into the rafters
A thousand pictures
From a house where evening
Never left the blankets
And the plums in the ice box
Fed like fish and bread
On a mount, as a service
Partial only to halves
Where tearing carried
Itself further tearing
Into the depths of
Two mirrors facing
Blue and hazel.
Rainbow in a room
In a paper through the
Belly of a gusting April
Sounding off its freckle
Back blue jays
Snatching bits of crap along the
Green and white checkered
Metal linked fence woven
Aluminum, shaken into cover
As an oboe from behind it,
From a room, or a bassoon, tangles with
The call of the hiding columns
Through shivering light turned many
Rolled bellies twitching into table
And fingers and paper and music
|
||||
Emanuel Ayvas New York
Emanuel Ayvas is a composer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist. He also leads the bands Emanuel and the Fear, Pale Ramon, and Ayvas and Baller.
If you like Emanuel Ayvas, you may also like:
Pete Yorn: Live At The Fonda (Double Album + Concert Film)
by Pete Yorn
This live album from Pete Yorn, recorded over two nights in 2009, includes a link to watch and download the performance in its entirety.
go to album
Pete Yorn Live At The Troubadour
by Pete Yorn
A sprawling, 25-song set from Pete Yorn complete with covers of Springsteen and The Smiths capture him at his unguarded best.
go to album
Phantom Letters
by Annique Monet
Post-Worthless, Annique Monet makes solo LP of magical, psychedelic pop songs that drift in and out of consciousness.
go to album
Jeremy Mage and The Magi
by Jeremy Mage & The Magi
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 11, 2014
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Aug 17, 2021
go to album
Melodic post-grunge that eschews all of the negative connotations of that phrase and embraces all the positives: huge hooks, huge-r riffs.
go to album
The new EP from NYC’s best live rock band is a scorcher, full of bleak, driving guitars and topped with dark, prophetic vocals.
go to album
