1. |
Black Sheep
03:15
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Our great narrative, pale and deceived
(Don't let the world in, don't let in the world)
Well the kid in me is disgusted to see
What happened to all of our dreams
So, what happened to all of the dreams?
(We chased through our youth, our best years in the world)
Every hour counted and sold depletes
Incredible how time bleeds
In light of real life inside this machine
If I'm doomed to be a sheep
Then I'll be the blackest you've ever seen
We were carnival prize goldfish
(A clear, cellophane plastic bag is our world)
Coveted, carried, praised for a moment
Then left wasting, pacing circles in a bowl
What if they told it to us straight from the start
That life is a compromise
And no, not the noble sort, but more a form of forfeiture
Giving much and taking little
What if we knew that all along? Would we be better off?
Or would we just be flocking sooner?
In light of the darkness inside this machine
If I'm doomed to be a sheep
I'll be the blackest you've ever seen
Fuck real life and fuck the machine
If I'm doomed to be a sheep
Then I'll be the blackest you've ever seen
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2. |
Parties
05:47
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Is it very warm in here?
Or is it just my fucked up homeostasis?
Nah, I’m good, I don’t need a drink
Though it seems you’re already off to the races
Okay, fine, I’ll play along
So tell me something, what’s your bliss?
How do you get to sleep at night,
How do you quell the crisis?
Parties? What are these?? Parties…
I’m sorry to get so heavy
I know we only just now met
But these are questions we all have to answer
And you just haven’t impressed me yet
Alright, I’ll take that drink now
My mouth is dry and my palms are starting to sweat
I’ve never been big on small talk
Never learned to take what I could get
Parties? What are these?? Parties…
My attention wavers
Drawn by a yell out in the streets
While your anecdote-du-jour
Reaches the end and again repeats
So the moments pass
While somewhere within the liquor heats
I’ll soon be home, undressed and alone
Under the influence and the sheets
Parties? What are these?? Parties…
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3. |
Trouble
07:07
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Kickin' shells in to the surf, one by one
A quiet existential crisis in the sun
If this crooked castle in the sand
Is all I've built after all this time
Then I'm in trouble
And I'm not ready
I study my reflection at length
And carefully catalogue every change
Hair and doubt have both grown out
The mirror's dirty and the room's the goddamn same
And I'm in trouble
And I'm not ready
Reeling, I'm feeling depressed again
I'll lie down in my clothes and rest and then
Staring at the ceiling I start to drift off
Born upon waves of a complacent sea
And I'm in trouble
And I'm not ready
I sure could use a little good news
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4. |
Rage and Riot
04:20
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Some days
The world won't turn
Some people
Never learn
My insides
Wrath and churn
When this whiskey
Has lost its burn
I will rage and riot
It's your right
To be wrong
And you've sure
Invoked it all along
But today
You'll fall before the throng
Cause this march
Is at least one man strong
I will rage and riot
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5. |
Cicada
07:00
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Bounding hearts and escalated breathing
Reaching for each others' hands in the evening
Nowhere to go, and no one, nowhere, to be
But our souls were flush and pure as honey
But that was then, this is now
I've found new ways to let you down
I'm a shell of the self I used to be
Like one of your cicadas plucked from the bark of a tree
And it's fucking with me
Pounding hearts and frenetic breathing
Withdrawn and distant but inside screaming
Pacing hallways and fruitless errands
Grasping and clenching and wringing my hands
But that was then and this is now
I've found new ways to let you down
I'm a shell of the self I used to be
Like one of your cicadas plucked from the bark of a tree
And it's fucking with me
I'm flicking pennies into fountains
Each time the surface clears enough to see
My reflection and the countless
Wishes wasted, hopeless hopes, and derelict dreams
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6. |
Miasma
05:51
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I'm sick
Oh, no, I am not well
Can a bender span months?
Perhaps ebb and swell?
I dwell
Most days now at the bottom
Of my own freshly dug holes
Of every pile, and of the bottle
Oh I've tried
I've tried all that cognitive bull
But it's a fan to a house of cards
And the deck was never, ever full
And besides
Every bit of scrappy progress
Is two-timed and beguiled
By my careening prancing madness
Apologies
If I'm a poisonous presence
A choking asthma
A noxious atmosphere
Apologies
If I am miasma
Oh ho! I'm feelin' it
Squinting here in the dark
Those Caribbean cocktails
Just turned the villa wall art
Into a mask of death
I beckon, then flip it off
Paranoid and reckless
Untethered and aloft
J'ai perdu
Ma joie de vivre
Et maintenant je chanté
En mauvais francais
Now standing here
Passed out on my feet
I pirouette and sashay
And wake half-dressed
Drooling in the back seat
Apologies
If I'm a poisonous presence
A choking asthma
A noxious atmosphere
Apologies
If I am miasma
Oh exquisite malaise
How each breath shakes
When I can't separate
Triumphs from mistakes
This is a crisis
Of dueling identities
Or maybe all this nonsense is, y'know
The forest for the trees
Still I drink
Up any mystical remedy
Or hokey dogma
That promises release
So just let me steep
Oh my god, just let me stew
Maybe let me simmer off
Shit, just give me a few
Apologies
If I'm a poisonous presence
A choking asthma
A noxious atmosphere
Apologies
If I am miasma
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7. |
At Aphelion
04:37
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Dear times together that I can't feel you in
Color me an unhinged reeling chameleon
Oh, but bad poetry and feckless apologies
Still leave me cold and distant, at aphelion
Festering within
Have I given you pause?
Do you smart with resentment?
Do you seethe, rancorous?
Have I given you pause?
Am I a butterfly or just a caterpillar
Or is all of this actually my chrysalis?
Oh, but what if?! what a frightening prospect
If I long ago wasted my metamorphosis
Just to become this
Have I given you pause?
Do you smart with resentment?
Do you seethe, rancorous?
Have I given you pause?
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8. |
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Are we choreographed
From conception to the epitaph?
Is your so-called identity real?
How how how how do I feel
How do I deal
With this
Anesthetic Aesthetic
Mon cher Lacan
C’est la jouissance
Cut the strings and stop the show
Free self and limb from this faux Geppetto
A decision most corporeal
Now how how how do I feel
How do I heal
From this
Anesthetic Aesthetic
Mon cher Lacan
C’est la jouissance
I was feeling like a subject: numbered and dropped into a maze
With chemicals conflagrating through the veins
And implanted purposes deep in the brain
And dead ends and dead ends and dead ends and naught to gain
Refrain, refrain refrain, refrain
Anesthetic Aesthetic
Mon cher Lacan
C'est la jouissance
I’m here, it’s now, I’m me
The beauty and the calamity
This was never meant to be
An act of fucking bravery
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9. |
Graveyards & Cemeteries
06:44
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Shaking down the turnpike in a flannel state
Swallow and contemplate
When Brenny tells me the difference between
A graveyard and a cemetery
Suddenly
I'm spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning
All of the lives I lived back when
Are lying buried beside the persons I could've been
And we're spinning and spinning and spinning and spinning
I've been in trouble
I've been full of rage
Been bent over double
Strings cut center-stage
What the hell's it all for
If not to change
If not to change
If not to change
The wind off the ocean done braided my hair
All up with brined, sea-salted air
Turn my back on the complacent sea
I've got better places to be
Suddenly
I'm flailing and flailing and flailing and flailing
All of the lives I lived back when
Are floating, drowned beside the persons I could've been
Leave them, leave them, leave them, leave them
I've been in trouble
I've been full of rage
Been bent over double
Strings cut center-stage
What the hell's it all for
If not to change
If not to change
If not to change
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10. |
Most Days Now
06:18
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I wake before the sun most days now
And in the silky violet light I lay
Scrutinizing all of my saboteurial ways
Yet scheming how I'll betray all my resolutions today
I've been a few times round the existential block
I've spit time and again in the face of the ticking clock
My albatross, my pleasure in despair must finally wane
If I just want to feel, not to feign
I sleep before the moon most nights now
But as I drift I wax with hazy enlights
I may require readers for my hindsight
Somebody please get me blinders for all of this insight
I've been a few times round the existential block
I've spit time and again in the face of the ticking clock
My albatross, my pleasure in despair must finally wane
If I just want to feel, not to feign
Witness me, bide with me
While I plié round a chasm
Absurdity of absurdities
Mais donne moi le dernier mot
Please give me the last word
I think I'm ready now
I'm finally ready now
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Parade Chic Buffalo, New York
Parade Chic is the musical moniker of songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and neurotic, Colin Griffin. His compositions convey a profound dissonance; brooding and surreal, they blend elements of psych, electronic, chamber, and art rock, and have drawn comparisons to Tame Impala, Arcade Fire, and The Zombies. Parade Chic's dizzying sophomore album, Exquisite Malaise, is out now. ... more
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