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lyrics

Everyone I love is all fucked up, carving out a moment of relief between panic and despair with anything to lessen the bite of the vice grips as they constantly tighten. Everyone I love is trapping moments of reprieve like fireflies in bell jar glass. They suffocate on pristine display. Their flickering glow dimming out and dead before first light of the following day. All of the lies that sounded like lies that we knew were lies turned out to be lies because they were lies. Fool me once. Yeah, fuck you. They told us we’d rise with the tide but we all fucking drowned. We’re all just antennas and exposed nerves and they cut off our eyelids when the brightness turns up on us. We’re just walking bags of electricity and chemicals where the default reaction is no action. I’ve heard that breathing is an act of resistance but it’s fucking exhausting keeping this machine in balance. Each induced disconnection buys us time to add distance between our minds and that looming darkness we all carry deep beneath our sternums. Each high makes the darkness grow stronger until it completely consumes us. Every fucking waking moment. It becomes just shy of impossible to shake it once it leaves its mark on you and, once that fucker gets its hooks in you, the bridges look different and the buildings look different. The height starts calling you home.

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from The Moral High Ground Is A Desert Island, released February 15, 2022

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Gilded Age Portland, Oregon

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