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Third Album

by Memories from Death

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1.
Big Tiddy Goth Gf 05:52
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2.
Grandpa Joe 04:42
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3.
Steve Song, song for steve (feat. Steve) 05:16
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I'm sick and I got no money I'm tired and I got no body Jus a guitar an eyes full of tears Memories of things I've done emptiness and faded loves all the things that have passed me by through the years can I hold on? can I still hold on? I feel I'm going down absent of intellect the absentees open their thoughts to thinking the black motifs in satin white skate across the concrete bleeding out on the edge of power violence the people in power violent the violence in all acts of power overtaken by the imagery of control the people in all acts of violence overtaken by the imagery of control what's one life for an eye what are generations of Scottish hatred in the vision of the overlord the people in all acts of violence overtaken by the imagery of control what's one life for an eye what are generations of Scottish hatred in the vision of the overlord the people in all acts of violence overtaken by the imagery of control what's one life for an eye what are generations of Scottish hatred in the vision of the overlord down back west Neath the Nixon line the beer aint the best but the women so fine the boys all sayin get me mine as the medical establishment comes crashing drown out the noise and stop asking drown out the noise and hear the string section two steps past the election the illusion of agency comes calling begging god for the choice to shut my ears and cry wolves come out of the forest with noise in their eyes twist the gears and twitch the body stiff the stiffs in the trunk as we drive off the pier and the waves come crashing down and if I ever I find somebody and I get me a little more money maybe I'll buy me a set of brand new strings and I'll put em on this here guitar and I'll tune em up nice and slick and I'll sing some songs about happier things can I hold on? can I still hold on? I feel I'm going down
4.
The Princess and the Southwestern Horny Toad Migration 06:56
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High above a solitary cloud the solitary sleeper in her bed of goose down the empty eyed stare at the ground a network of images in white satin sewn together by threads that she makes from those little bits of skin that peel off of people's nails the tiny holes in each photograph are a small price to pay to have them strung across the corner where her wall meets the ceiling servant of steel she sews herself into the wall and never comes out. power tripping power gripping the word she speaks is power blind behind the curtains waiting take your fill and stop explaining the warm embracing the warm what she wouldn't give to break out of her skin the cgi peeling back inside the shell of a man is sold on a broken promise of freedom puppeteers telling quiet stories to the dead didn't mean to step on eggshells didn't mean to steal your heads will roll on hallowed ground the dirt is flat the earth is round the imaginary space beneath my feet is built on the bodies of gamblers there will come a time in your life where events in the world will rise up to meet you as if they had been living on their own terms all along the sun and his contract with the sky the son and his contract with the outline of the sun Im so embarrassed that I still exist Years later where the tower meets the sea a family moves in and a young man gets the room with the flowers all to himself I feel the weight of her eyes on my skin I feel the weight of her life in my hands
5.
Ow my balls 10:33
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take part in taking me apart of local government he sits part of the way down the isle of man broken up into parts and peaces divided amongst the divided the united state of being part of something empty mornings cast into the abyss a black hole service at the body is a temples smacked twice in quick succession concussive force to tweak the mind back inside it's shell the turtle's thoughts turn to the 6 dozen or so eggs that might survive the winters out here are so cold you can freeze the wings off a Nat Grounded over Christmas break the child stuck inside watches as everything passes them by missing out on the mistakes he's lucky enough to grow up without the broken bones and the bullying the icy death that waits greater than less the feedback feeds the frozen minds of the local delinquents better than the last couple of nights the paranoid anger falls backwards into into the abyss I am nothing more than nothing the serpent surrounds the servant sounds the surreptitious surrealist sleeping around the back of a grocery store
6.
An Inverted Pyramid Scheme 05:40
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A rare treat from the heavens, silver hair and golden eyes, framed in rosewood sculpture. An open form flexed against her glass housing. Cut against the grain she sings the low notes like birdsong, an inkan chant to call the dead back to their feet. Save us she whispers Save us she screams Dark demons and dreary eyed mince pies, human flesh diced by constraining ties The walled in wisdom that never dies The walled in wisdom that never tries Beg not god for release before you let go of what you weren’t holding onto it right? You, so certain of purpose of purview of principality, define meaning defy meeting displace your replacement and reaccept an old reality Depth of the playing field marked by more than four lines, the fuzzy gray area embraced with all the love in my heart, am I a victim of art? Intro to introspection, a repressed reflection, a divine intervention in the chests of dead pirates. Their treasure swallowed up by the sea. I look up to the lord with shallow tears in my eyes. hoping for another shot at life I whisper at the top of my lungs anything but me
7.
The Rejection of Lonerism 23:26
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I come home from the store and take her into my arms, I nestle my face into the crook of her shoulder and take in a breath of her soft auburn hair. I look up from my paradise to find the camera there watching me. In his hands and in his head I am the instrument of our demise. The desert people hail him as a god, a prophetic piecemeal, a pile of prosthetics. A religious leader relegated to my service. An epic poem in his name the camera twitches and sparks. He tosses my wife to the side and grips me by the hair on the back of my head. He looks me in the eyes and says something along the lines of "I am the song The servant The serpent and you will bow before me" in a house made of bodies made of bones made of skulls made of love for one another little gifts to make your wholes filled up by one another the flesh is fresh and pink a little glimpse of one another washing down the kitchen sink The scent of blood on his skin. The grease in his hair. The drip of spit on his long slimy tongue, like a worm living inside the shell of a man. Heathen. Demon. Monster. Sinner. Vile beast of meat and anger. His head in my hands. I remove my own shell and place it where his had been. The desert people's will rejoice and the earth itself shall rise up to sing with me. A rabbit is standing in a field, its ears perk up at the sound of a passing car. it darts across the grass searching for the safety of the denser forest. the camera pans underneath his stomach while he runs, on each of his paws is revealed to be the mark of an ouroboros, they hit the ground with a rhythm like the beating hearts of a hundred dead men. the camera pans up to look the rabbit in the face. With a snarl the rabbit whispers to the viewer "I am the son the sleeper the salamander and you best listen when I talk to you" Seated on a park bench, I am settling in to my new life. My new body suits me quite nicely, the home in Bakersfield is well dressed and my wife is decorated with the finest of adornments. What was foreign and mysterious is slowly returning to the familiar. I put my arm around Darla and kiss her on the cheek. She looks at me and smiles with love in her eyes.
8.
And all the Love in my heart 06:19
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Emptied of words there is nothing left to express my heart goes out to those still living in the stratosphere the everclear the everpresent the steel edge of time that stings the back of my throat when the swallows fly home for the winter emptied of regret from beneath the horizon all swallows eve to rise above their limitiations I wear a sleeve on my heart to turn back the cold steel I sit on the steps with my head in my hands and plead with the lord to let me back inside emptied of the robotic soul life begins anew do you remember dying?

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released November 1, 2020

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Memories from Death Ventura, California

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