1. |
||||
|
(instrumental)
|
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2. |
Keep It To Yourself
04:12
|
|||
|
Maybe you found God.
Maybe you saw the killer.
Maybe not.
Maybe you were looking in the mirror.
You might have thought you were right.
Might not know what you were thinking.
Thought you’d open your mind,
now your head’s ringing, keep it…
to yourself.
Maybe you have friends.
Maybe they don’t know.
Keep it to yourself.
Don’t let it show.
Maybe you’re the victim.
Maybe that’s your game.
Maybe nothing’s changed.
Maybe just your name.
Your shame is deep inside you.
The truth won’t find you, keep it…
to yourself.
Have you got something to say?
Or something to stand for?
Maybe that’s your play!
You wait until they’re asleep
and drop the bomb on their dreams.
It’s easy as it seems
They’re only sleeping. Keep it…
to yourself.
Maybe you have a gift.
Something you want to share.
Don’t let it out.
Just leave it in there…
If they see what you have.
they won’t understand.
Probably won’t even look. Keep it…
to yourself.
This is a lesson I’ve learned
from years of being burned,
led on and spurned,
I’m giving you these words
to lock up in your heart and head.
I ask of you, in return,
to listen and discern.
Maybe this is your art.
Maybe this is the part of you
that they’ll never get.
Maybe this is the thing
they’ll burn when you are dead.
Well, you’ve got nothing to say.
There’s nothing there, so keep it…
to yourself.
|
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3. |
Baw Faw, Baby
04:41
|
|||
|
A-all the way up Baw Faw.
Slippery skin and slackjaw.
Shake you around.
Shake you around.
G-g-gravel-gray and washboard.
B-b-bouncing with the import.
Shake you around.
Shake you around.
Hanging out the window.
F-f-feel the Summer wind blow,
all the way to who knows?
Maybe San Francisco.
Salamander slowhand.
Swinging in the swampland.
Shake you around.
Shake you around.
T-t-take me through your art box.
Quick! Before the gate locks...
We're trekking through the trees, now.
Handprints on the hatchback.
Danny says we gotta go,
gotta go to Idaho, whoa...
Shake you around.
Shake you around.
Baw Faw, baby!
Shake you around.
Shake you around.
B-b-baw Faw, baby...
Can't wait to be with you tomorrow.
Shake you around.
Shake you around.
Baw Faw, baby...
|
||||
4. |
Knife
06:24
|
|||
|
Twist a little deeper,
memories still linger.
She may be my soul-bride.
Angle’s getting steeper.
Reflection of my fingers,
disappearing inside.
She may be my soul-bride.
Sharpened steel and painted red.
In the Summer we will wed,
by the Winter she’ll be dead.
Scar upon her shoulder,
growing as I hold her.
Someone should have told her.
By the Winter she’ll be dead.
Dead...
Body’s growing colder,
someone should have told her.
She may my soul-bride.
In the Summer we will wed,
by the Winter she’ll be dead.
She may my soul-bride.
She may be my soul-bride...
|
||||
5. |
Amber/Millipede
04:51
|
|||
|
I knew this would hurt you,
I knew it would make you cry…
But I’m stuck in amber,
a model for curious eyes.
Nothing is moving,
the night goes by so slow.
You want to love me
and I want to let you go?
Alive
on the outside
and dead at the core…
I tried to warn you,
my wounds give way to new skin.
Suspended in amber,
this shell of a man that I am.
Alive
on the outside
and dead at the core…
How could I hurt you?
Why would I make you cry?
You tell me you love me
and all I can say is goodbye?
Alive
on the outside
and dead at the core…
I am alive
on the outside
and dead at the core…
|
||||
6. |
Mothratic Equation
03:20
|
|||
|
(instrumental)
|
||||
7. |
Alien Landscapes
04:07
|
|||
|
These are
alien landscapes
to me.
My heart
triggered a
ground-swell,
a soul-shaking…
To the victor,
the spoils.
Leave me to toil
out here
in these
alien landscapes.
I’m free.
A maelstrom
of misery,
a whirlpool
of worry.
Twisting,
twisting and turning,
waxing
and waning.
Leading me
here
to these
alien landscapes.
I’m free.
My heart
triggered a
ground-swell,
a soul-shaking…
To the victor,
the spoils.
Leave me to toil
out here
in these
alien landscapes.
I’m free.
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
(instrumental)
|
||||
9. |
Fear Of Failure
11:20
|
|||
|
This is your fear of failure.
This is your resting place.
All of your creature comforts,
out here in inner space…
This is your paranoia,
always your best defense.
A voice that compels your delusions,
delusions of insignificance.
Oh, this is your fear of failure.
Oh, the thing you fear the most.
To wash down a pill with poison.
A virus shutting down it’s host.
Under the bed with your monster,
watching strangers as they pass.
This is your fear of failure.
Mercury in glass.
This is your fear of failure.
Mercury in glass.
This is your fear of failure.
Mercury in glass.
This is your fear of failure.
The needle sliding through your spine.
Waves of doubt and expectation,
rotting grapes along the vine.
Lying in bed with a stranger,
waiting for monsters to attack.
This is your fear of failure.
Mercury in glass.
Or maybe you already knew her,
sometimes your monster wears a mask.
Well, this is your fear of failure.
Mercury in glass.
This is your fear of failure.
Mercury in glass.
This is your fear of failure.
Mercury in glass.
This is your fear of failure.
This is your fear of failure...
|
||||
Simian Crease Puyallup, Washington
An "extremely prolific and creative studio project..." ~ Fabricoh Magazine
Featured track on
94.7 FM Too at 2: 'Prickly Little Unicorn'
"I really enjoy Taipei EP, too bad it ends so quickly..." ~ Solance/Audio Camp
"Experimental rock treasures" and "the underground sound is fully-realized and surprisingly adventurous..." ~ Music Emissions
Simian Crease is Mike Miles.
... more
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