Iâve got a message from the dead
Itâs a fire escape
Itâs a flat wheel
It is something that I canât forget:
Engraving instructions
Falling backwards from the fear
Iâm a liar
Iâm a coward
Iâm collapsing under stress and tears
Itâs not frightening
Time is crying
And how I wondered what I would have even said to you
Debts are moving
Oh, the heartbreak
And after everything you told me that you wanted to
I lost signal
and destruction
While we waited by the old paper factory
there was something,
something moving
A vision resting right under the scene
No talking
Just feeling
And I want to go home
Iâm not where I should go
In a way, Iâm hiding
In a way, I should know
I donât know
and Iâm begging for you
Precious decisions
under the sky
And Iâm just wondering why
The man on the porch
canât get a dime
Heâs always selling out of bottled up time
Ainât been found to drown in sound
And have half a mind to make it die down
Oh, to be the ground
But I donât know how far Iâll go
with nothing in particular
Lasting frustrations
occupy my mind
Like why do I always wonder whatâs mine?
The man in the chair
is still doing fine
If my glass is empty, why does his still have wine?
Hereâs a game
Take a wrong way train
Cause whoâs to say
it wonât end up back around again?
A light at dawn
An image thatâs undone, as one
It sends to me
a notion to run
And by then, Iâll be out of time
to begin again
Ainât been found to drown in sound
And have half a mind to make it die down
Oh, to be the ground
But I donât know how far Iâll go
with nothing in particular
I know thereâs something to try
Someone has given me time
Life hits back
Death is wealth
I wonât talk, or respond, Iâll just tell myself
to burn it down
Is there anything in this town
but a prison cell
and a series of bank accounts?
And thatâs the fault of a wide angle lens
An expression made clear from your face is erased in a minor sense
Is that where the moneyâs spent?
Itâs the fly eating fruit off the tree
Just a day in advance of the ants that appear when when itâs in the weeds
Is that how a privilege reads?
And Iâve been around, but it donât mean death to me
But it hurts to admit that Iâm on my way to get back again
Back again
And you the bear the weight
of not feeling the same
Itâs the boss in a room full of chairs
who canât make up his mind cause the real workforce isnât there
Is that why his wage is fair?
I saw her crying
on the train
What went wrong?
Did you have a bad day?
I saw a message
written in the glass:
Turn away
Turn back
Iâm a sailor
but Iâm in wake again
Itâs not the way I am
again
Go catch a chorus
or drink a tear
Sheâs left drying on the faucet
underneath the mirror of an
Osakan hallway
after trains have passed
where I still felt the shame of stealing your flute after class
Itâs a debt I owe, but I know that it canât be paid
when you tell me that Iâm only wide awake
Cause Iâm scared to find out Iâm not
Oh no
Well la-di-da-di-da
La-di-da-di-da
Youâll be walking off with my head
In a way I can allow
Iâm a sailor
but Iâm in wake again
Itâs not the way I am
again
How can I be true
when youâre holding someone new?
I walk down the stairs of pity
A fire escape is burning
I should have known better
but I am gone now
Kyoto is home now
Lost in language
Language of love
Language of fear
Language of god
So open your heart and let it tumble
to the earth
Let it recreate your place of birth
Let it seep into the cracks and dirt
Inside the heart there lies a moon
The deepest cratered shade of blue
And what should I do?
The pulse stopped coming through
Iâve got blood
in my blood
A chance of letting go
But your bodyâs been sitting in the backseat of my soul
Iâve been around
But I havenât found the âwhyâ
Iâve seen your face inside the postal store
Reflections of the way we spoke before
A sign of life, a sign of always letting go
It helps prepare me for your welcoming into my arms
Drink the tea weâve steeped too long
Itâs a pattern I understand
thatâs drawn on the palm of my hand
with your blood in my blood
Iâm not willowing
Iâm straightening my tone
And Iâve been strangling
but Iâm surfing through hope
And all the people clap their hands, and what do you do?
And all the people clap their hands, and what do you do?
Iâve got a thousand knives
that means a thousand tries
Iâve got a thousand knives
that means a thousand tries
to set it off
And everyday Iâm coming down with something new
But could this be the way
I interrupt the view
The headaches
The shakes
The way we break
Itâs all I know
I am alone
Iâm on an anxious throne
But you, your health, your stolen wealth, the way you are
Itâs a cry for help
Such a lonely life
And Iâve not been myself
in three weeks time
But youâve said that before
And in a way it helps my mind
go back in time
when Iâm alright
Iâm working all day, crying all night
Got my dress shoes on just to feed my kid
No Iâm not upset, Iâm just on edge
And what can be done about the day by day?
I've got a doctorâs note from a cackling crow
My hair's been chopped but itâs all fucked up
And Iâm waiting til noon just to eat my lunch
And what can done about the day by day?
The garage doorâs closed, and the front door locked
Got a message for the wife, but sheâs still drunk
Itâs been thirteen years, and we havenât talked much
What can be done about the day by day?
Itâs a terminal case, Iâll be dead in three months
Got my jumpsuit on and Iâm ready to work
No Iâm not upset, Iâm just on edge
And what can be done about theâŚ
I am not willowing, Iâm straightening my time
And I've been suffering, and now Iâm taking control
And now I'm taking control
There is a stray
way to hold onto truth
And it lingers
like birdsong
in a crierâs jar
A crierâs jar in open air
Releasing out
the tune
From a crow
Like a battering ram
To an innocent man
And Iâve never been back again
Thereâs a reason I canât pretend ten times
Itâs a show
And my clattering hands go
to applaud the tableau
Itâs always there when
When somebody says
âSolace is fireâ
But their fingers
sing a different song
than the note Iâve drawn
The note Iâve drawn
Does it make it wrong?
Cause Iâm broke
And every day Iâm trying to get home
but I canât help myself
Itâs innocent delay
When Iâm running away
and I'm broke
Itâs always there when
When somebody says
âSolace is fireâ
The autumn sun
wonât wash away my days
My true love
hidden on display
The autumn sun
in a state of change
My true love
hidden in the sway
Of the trees and
the leaves of despair
Keeps me wondering if youâre even there
Of course you are
What was underground now is off the table
So Iâm making it all on my own
And Iâm alone
There was time
and there were forms that weâve signed
But itâs only a way to burn trees
A rare peace
He dines
but a table cannot support the doubt of grieving
Green glass on the windowsill
spreading light onto ceiling, my dear
The dead donât lend and lie
Paying a due like I did once
And the sun had tears running down the face of dawn
Reeking like a newborn charm
Part of it all along
was the nature of being alone in your bed
And part of it all along
was the nature of needing the things that you said
And now Iâm not afraid at all
cause Iâve seen a lot of pride in myself
Looking in the room
Asking for feeling
And now itâs all begun
A single sight inside my eyes
He dines in the hall
of portraits unrevealing
Nothing at all
but a singer, barely breathing
The seams in her thighs
Spring has arrived so early
Nothing ever turns out right
Slipping into habits is a vile surprise
Thereâs a figure in bloom
Painting a view so lightly
Iâm awake another day here
and Iâve got nothing that hurts, it just echos away
But you, youâre wasting all the things I couldnât say
shouldnât say
And now I want to be without review
If thereâs a symbol in my window
saying life is just a dream, played over a curse
Then why does everything repeat until hurts
and thrill converts
into a ratio that canât be seen?
But every time it goes
I am a dog in tow
And I know that I canât, but Iâll take it
And my headâs a network show
Poor content
Laugh track
No viewers
But thatâs ok
Is it too much?
I understand
Thereâs a thing when you
regress a little bit
A bit about done when you exhale
And itâs been a been a way to find
some kind of frame of mind
But it goes
I am a dog in tow
And I know that I canât, but Iâll take it
And my headâs a network show
Poor engagement
Failed ratings
No reach
Ripped up shoji
Shattered light
Iâve got cursed out smile
And Iâm losing myself
Thereâs a lying lynx that stole our fears
Whatâs the loss?
Can you read the air?
Iâm all spun out
Accidents
Turnover rates
Got a word to say but it wonât come out
And what does that say, when Iâve been out late, tonight?
Running away
Lining my time
Fighting the return to the fire inside
And is it so wrong,
or bad, to die in spite?
And how do you retire
when those open arms
come through the door?
And after all the time weâve spent,
youâll learn to live again
with the tears of all the shadows
in your body
And I'm not awake quite yet
But Iâve got my mind set and Iâm breathing fine
And Iâm not what I think I am
Just skin and bones, thin and young
From sinking down
See the air
inside of you, my love
But how do you retire
when those open arms
come through the door?
And after all the time weâve spent,
youâll learn to live again
with the tears of all the shadows
in your body
Stuck in the middle of something
Itâs a shame
And I know Iâm gonna say it out loud
Just when you told me
that everything would change
And I know youâre gonna say it out loud
SURF HARP
----------------------
PHILIP BOLTON
JEFFREY KOPLOVITZ
AARON PERSEGHIN
CHRISTOPHER SWEENEY
RYAN ZADERA
ADDITIONAL PERFORMERS:
----------------------
NIKITA ASTRAKHANTSEV: AUXILIARY BASS
JERRY DENIM: PEDAL STEEL
MARIA DONTAS: VOCALS
EMANUELE FILIPPI: ACOUSTIC PIANO
FRANK GRILLO: TRUMPET
ES HAMIDI: SAXOPHONES
KINSEY MATTHEWS: VOCALS
AL PATTERSON: VIOLIN, VIOLA
AMY REID: VOCALS
MILADIN STOJKOVIÄ: UPRIGHT BASS
PATRICK TAYLOR: VOCALS, CLAPS
FILIPPO TRAMONTANA: FRENCH HORN
PIM DE VENTE: ELECTRIC PIANO
ELI WHITEHEAD-ZIMMERS: CELLO
PRODUCED BY SURF HARP
ENGINEERED, RECORDED, MIXED BY PHILIP BOLTON IN BALTIMORE, USA
ADDITIONAL RECORDING BY PHILIP BOLTON AND JEFFREY KOPLOVITZ IN VARIOUS CITIES ACROSS JAPAN
MASTERED BY MAT LEFFLER-SCHULMAN AT MOBTOWN STUDIOS
AESTHETICS:
----------------------
J.G. ORUDJEV: ARTWORK
TAYLOR DEBOER: LAYOUT AND ADDITIONAL DESIGN
DENNIS MIZZONI: LAYOUT AND ADDITIONAL DESIGN
JEFFREY KOPLOVITZ: PHOTOGRAPHY AND COLORING
supported by 4 fans who also own âLanguage is Lostâ
A fantastic album. I can see why they didn't continue under the name The Evens, as it's a different sound with the bass added. Coriky is the Evens + Joe Lally from Fugazi on bass. If you can imagine The Evens with a slightly more funky, aggressive sound like Fugazi... that's what you get! And there's no way that can ever go wrong. What a great debut album!! smiledozer
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