1. |
Fatal Vision
03:34
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2. |
Desert Orchards
04:41
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3. |
Heels On The Street
03:21
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4. |
The First Grain
05:43
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Son they sure did whip me today
My old man used to say
We had the Lord to thank
As he sank in the other room
A sawtooth sawdust salesman
And thus in the a.m. mirror I am
Seeing only that I have to withstand
Millennia of mistakes
Here on the breath of an underground train
That takes me to my screen
And the family business
We’ve been swindling for so many years
Ever since we planted the first grain
The notion of wanting
To be more than sustained
When you cut your teeth on
Whatever you were handed
The first time thinking, I don’t belong
You didn’t know the half of it
Sorta like the district
In the evenings come midweek
When the exodus is swelling all around me
For escape after ten thousand years as poor actors
Facing this backfiring engine
I don’t want any part of
Imagining the bodies
That could finally match it
When you cut your teeth on
Whatever you were handed
The first time thinking, I don’t belong
You didn’t know the half of it
You only knew you wanted to be true
No wonder our bodies feel
No wonder
Our bodies feel out of tune
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5. |
Civilized Death
03:27
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6. |
Like the Company
05:40
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7. |
Barricades (Way Home)
04:52
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8. |
1986 Again
07:13
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Brice Randall Bickford North Carolina
Contact at thestrugglers@gmail.com. Now operating under the name Scivic Rivers.
Contact Brice Randall Bickford
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