1. |
Triptych
05:54
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As moonlight caught each spot of skin left bare by touch and teasing,
The cold contortions of her back set coiled tensions creaking.
She glanced at faded yellow bulbs, a vigil strewn before them,
And wondered, “Is my presence here required for a quorum?”
I live in panels of an unfinished triptych.
Waiting for meaning to the partial and cryptic.
The sun would be unbearable without a lingering taste of mint,
In crystal jars of contraband she brandished with a glint.
So eagerly he sweltered as the heat poured down in torrents-
Again he sipped, caressed her arm, and swore that he enjoyed it.
I live in panels of an unfinished triptych.
Desperate for meaning to the partial and cryptic.
The final canvas has been primed,
This panel will be filled in time.
Preceding scenes can’t yet reveal their purpose.
Each stain, each searing stroke of red,
Just tints a line of woven thread.
There’s time until paint sets motif from flourish.
There’s time until paint sets.
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2. |
In All of This
03:05
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Which episodes of tragedy
Can stir a bit of pageantry
And hold a painted grin while tasting copper?
When sorrows seem incredible,
To others, so forgettable,
I twist myself so venomous and proper.
In all of this, we nurtured something more.
In all of this.
In all of this.
And all of this, to end up where I was before.
Face the morning’s alienation-
I’ll pay the fee to join some congregation,
Where they’ve got daily deals for repeat buyers.
Connections are irregular,
Conferred by faceless creditors,
Perfunctory as Sunday’s retail flyers.
In all of this, we nurtured something more.
In all of this.
In all of this.
And all of this, to end up where I was before.
The spreading ranks of timid gawkers,
Who’d rather life be cruel than awkward-
They’re pushing me to make their motives mine.
In all of this, we nurtured something more.
In all of this.
In all of this.
And all of this, to end up where I was before.
And all of this, to end up where I was before.
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3. |
Anything Productive
04:29
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Take a tired armature
That’s bent to want and wallow.
Draped in bronze, the curvature
When struck, replies as hollow.
Never happy, Never sad.
Always occupied.
I might as well do something pointless and productive.
I’ve tried everything else.
When every urge is whispering something self-destructive,
Hit me with a swell of flashing lights and ringing bells.
You’ve gotten used to disappointment;
Life’s thrilling edge is dulled until blunt.
Still there’s a pulse of contentedness-
Sometimes whole hours at once.
Your aches are distant and tender as
A treated wound packed with gauze.
Ignore the likeness to hospice care-
Comfort has you in its claws.
I know I shouldn’t complain.
But, please, just let me have this weariness.
I might as well do something pointless and productive.
I’ve tried everything else.
When every urge is whispering something self-destructive,
Hit me with a swell of flashing lights and ringing bells.
I might as well do something pointless and productive,
Clutching to the suffering in all that I’m accomplishing.
There’s something nicely numbing and seductive
In floating through each night so entertained and mesmerized.
I might as well do something pointless and productive.
I’ve tried everything else.
When every urge is whispering something self-destructive,
Hit me with a swell of flashing lights and ringing bells.
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4. |
Face Your Fate
02:30
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Do you still find it noble-
Shouldering pain with little noise?
Giving in to all demands in hope
The world might be impressed by poise.
The pressure builds.
The pressure builds.
There’s only so much vacant light-
I’ve stood at the periphery.
While shivering in the dusk I found
I couldn’t warm myself with dignity.
The pressure builds.
The pressure builds.
Each fracture stuns and staggers you
Beaten down or standing straight.
Is it brave or is it foolish then-
To calmly face your fate?
There’s a chance you’ll mend your broken dreams,
Without pause or introspection.
Or you’ll carve the statue down to shards,
Chasing visions of perfection.
Each fracture stuns and staggers you
Beaten down or standing straight.
Is it brave or is it foolish then-
To calmly face your fate?
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5. |
Novelty Fades
01:02
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6. |
Habituation
04:31
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He walks with that peculiar gait of young
Men burdened by conceit and vague regret.
The silence simmers on. What wisdom’s won
He’d gladly give for errors to regress.
So weightless in the face of gravity,
His hollow declarations flaunt the chilled
And viscous air. Such simple brevity
Finds refuge in her bones, the secret spilled.
I walk in footprints of another man,
While cursing satisfaction he received
From ice that buckled neath his larger feet,
Like opaque glass ravaged and cracked by sand.
Each step to now ran parallel, but leaves
A cross where our two paths no longer meet.
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Andrew Schneider Chicago, Illinois
Andrew Schneider is a multi-instrumentalist based out of Chicago, writing and producing Art Rock, Jazz, Indie/Alternative, Psychedelia, Post Punk, and more. Andrew is inspired by XTC, Talking Heads, Joe Jackson, David Bowie, and any other artist who refuses to commit to a single sound or style. ... more
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