1. |
Arcadia
02:53
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|
Take wild musk and chains of clover
And blood that blooms in tepid water
Some amaranth and mountain pepper
Add boiling sons and moonlit daughters
Take Lexapro with private numbers
and hearts that stray to reckless lovers
Season with the summer's hunger
as bodies pour from pen of author.
Hold, hold me down
I see your hands as they pass through me
My throat makes no sound
in the shade of all your ruin
We'll fill each other with our sadness
With tongue and teeth and limbs entangled
While death will chase us into caskets
We'll spend the cash under our mattress
With arms I'm absently cross-hatching
With words repeating: death and taxes
Straining forward but drifting backwards
On a condemned stage of ghost-lit actors.
Hold, hold me down
I see your hands as they pass through me
My throat makes no sound
in the shade of all your ruin
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2. |
Solitaria
03:41
|
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3. |
Amnesia
04:51
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4. |
Viscera
02:39
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It's the trust you dug out of your palm
It's the lust beating flesh from your bones
Bled and honed on a hanging white moon
and turned loose in your ziggurat home
It's the weight of your clothes filled with soil
The unbalanced sum of all your fears
It's the fertilised dust in the pores
of the low hanging fruit of these years
It's the noise rolling free through your blood
Slurring tongues at the lip of the bar
Fraying ends spitting vowels at the streets
That abyss you're trying to fill is who you are
It's the night being chased by the sky
As the dawn uncloaks her naked waste
It's your limbs webbed through calendar tiles
and the features that cave in your face
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Naked Waste Melbourne, Australia
Primarily composed and performed on the bass guitar, Naked Waste is wounded folk scaffolded with arctic digital percussion and a mist of disembodied vocals. Something tethered to the geography of disremembered places—a communion of wonder and dereliction. These places of influence are used as a kind of vocabulary for the human interior— for unstable landscapes of self. ... more
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