1. |
Only When I Notice
02:12
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|
Only when I notice
Only when I look
At the walls of my apartment
I can see an old color
Behind the current one
And when I shower
I do so still as asleep as I can manage
Just pour enough soap
In my hands
Move the hands across the body
Til it's clean
I try to avoid
Looking at my body
I'm so tired
Of looking at my body
It makes me wish there was
Some kinda mechanism
Something in the mind
Something in the mind
That at some point I could
Quit recognizing
Myself as
Myself
Pour enough soap
In my hands
Move the hands across the body
Til it's clean
|
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2. |
Disquieted
03:23
|
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|
Disquieted by
The telephone call of an old friend
An acquaintance perhaps if I could recall the man
As a friend it would be different
He's looked me up
Discovered me
As he put it
And has it in his mind
I remember the loan
Not as a loan, he'd needed some book in a window
Twenty two years ago
What could he want and what could it mean?
There's something unhealthy, or at least there is something
That should be considered unhealthy
I don't feel my apprehension is incorrect
What could he want?
And what could it mean?
There's something unhealthy in the proposition
Or at least there is something that should be
Considered unhealthy
|
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3. |
Elena
03:33
|
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|
Mingled with my mail
I found a letter addressed to someone named
Simon Collette
No return address
But the name it ended with was
Elena
Elena
I'd never call
Her words anything but loveless
If not for the fact
They must have meant something to Simon
Simon Collette
She wrote in such a particular way
Of writing nothing
Of writing nothing
Related anecdotes, banalities
But no one called Simon Collette
Had lived here for the past twelve years
If not for the fact
That she wrote like this
No return address
But the name it ended with was
Elena
Elena
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4. |
Cattle
02:12
|
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|
paint colored cattle
words colored claws
snow colored sand
we’ve never seen our own shirts
telephone colored store floor
scarf colored old window
cloud colored cemetery soil colored
purple
|
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5. |
Today I Sat Wanting
02:02
|
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|
Today I sat wanting to be a poet
Watched out my window backed up my chair
And watched the window not really able to see out
Stood in my kitchen
I suppose
I smiled for two seconds when I then thought
I should close my eyes or step out of my apartment
Look toward the window behind gaze lids
Or a thick of door
I was amused
I suppose
|
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6. |
Window
02:03
|
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|
Just when there's rooms
We write songs about rooms
We write songs about rooms when we find them
When there are holes through the window
From stones flung from outside
And when there's holes in the floors
From feet through them
The plain night was furious
And needn't know why or at what
Or that it would only last as long as the night
The night thinks it only has
The left side of its face
And really I think the same
I think it's pockets are full up with worthless
Worthless worthless
|
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7. |
Thoughts Cross
03:05
|
|||
|
I write these words to be read now
Only after I have died
Repulsive I'm sure to most
But my response
Describe
But they are far too simple
To describe
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
Only when I notice
Only when I look
At the walls of my apartment
I can see an old color
Behind the current one
And when I shower
I do so still as asleep as I can manage
Just pour enough soap
In my hands
Move the hands across the body
Til it's clean
I try to avoid
Looking at my body
I'm so tired
Of looking at my body
It makes me wish there was
Some kinda mechanism
Something in the mind
Something in the mind
That at some point I could
Quit recognizing
Myself as
Myself
Pour enough soap
In my hands
Move the hands across the body
Til it's clean
|
||||
9. |
||||
|
Disquieted by
The telephone call of an old friend
An acquaintance perhaps if I could recall the man
As a friend it would be different
He's looked me up
Discovered me
As he put it
And has it in his mind
I remember the loan
Not as a loan, he'd needed some book in a window
Twenty two years ago
What could he want and what could it mean?
There's something unhealthy, or at least there is something
That should be considered unhealthy
I don't feel my apprehension is incorrect
What could he want?
And what could it mean?
There's something unhealthy in the proposition
Or at least there is something that should be
Considered unhealthy
|
||||
Pedro Gonzalez-Fernandez Washington, D.C.
Pedro Gonzalez-Fernandez is a composer, songwriter, and producer based in Washington, DC. His bold experimental aesthetic is balanced by a sense of engaging melody, humor, and relatability. Pedro has composed for a variety of film and video game projects. ... more
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