1. |
||||
Follow me down // Follow me down // Follow me // Down //
I’m on my last go-round // How long will it take before I hit the ground? // Sick of trips around the sun // Caught in the swarm of scores // Confronting all the closing doors // The face in the glass you can’t ignore // Reflects right back from decades passed // While the skin sags looser than // It had in years before // Who’s it, who’s it, who’s it, who’s it, who’s it want? // Every, every, every, every, every one // Where’s it, where’s it, where’s it, where’s it, where’s it go? // We don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t know // Follow me down the last go-round // We are the broke and hopeless // Down and destitute // I just really wanna know // Does it dwell inside of you // The eternal wear of flesh— // Battling your mortality // Just getting out of bed? // Time is coming for me // Your shadow’s dawning on you // The sky ain’t calling on me // It keeps crawling, it keeps creeping // God ain’t speaking to you // The stars aren’t summoning me // Time is beating, truth is beckoning you // Who’s it, who’s it, who’s it, who’s it, who’s it want? // Every, every, every, every, every one // Where’s it, where’s it, where’s it, where’s it, where’s it go? // We don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t, we don’t know // Have you ever stopped to ask yourself how far you can fall— // When suicide’s another thing you can put off one more day? // Time is coming for me // Your shadow’s dawning on you // The sky ain’t calling on me // It keeps crawling, it keeps creeping // God ain’t speaking to you // The stars aren’t summoning me // Time is beating, truth is beckoning you // Who’s it, who’s it, who’s it, who’s it, who’s it want? // Every, every, every, every, every one // When’s it, when’s it, when’s it, when’s it, when’s it stop? // When ya, when ya, when ya, when ya, when you drop.
|
||||
2. |
||||
I saw a girl with palsy // Being spoon-fed by her father // While others looked on at them // I tried to eat my meal // I remind myself of how to chew // And the proper way to swallow // Not all of us were born in forms // We would have fucking chosen
// Who am I to think that I’m cut from a flesh like hers? // Yet who are you to claim what it means to dwell in my bones? // I’ve never had a reason to live // One not to die is what got me by // I grew tired of being defined // So I refined my absurdity // The rest the world dismissed me as // Merely ‘spastic or something’ // I’ve never had a reason to live // One not to die is what got me by // With utensils in my hands // A chatter and an echo channeled through me // This noise, a voice, segued itself // Into thoughts of rumination // You’ve been invalidated by those of the mind that no one can tell // What they neglect to actualize extends beyond their perception // Combatting your cognition and harnessing the hemiplegic nature of your being // While they pass judgement through their own lack of comprehension // No longer can these almost solipsistic suicidal notions // Slip off your tongue and slide under your breath, in consequence // Who are you to think you’re cut from a flesh like hers? // Who are they to claim what it means to dwell in your bones? //I sat there, selfishly absorbed into the recesses of my own indulgent thoughts // Caught in the throes of those contemplations // I examined the detriment imposed upon those of us who inhabit bodies // No more consciously occupied than that of your own // Even now, as I bare my soul onto the stage of that world which indoctrinated me with narratives of my own inadequacy // I still wonder whether it was my and insufficiency that caused me to confront the fatal consequence of a discriminatory existence // A question I raise despite an unaccountable culture possessing the capacity to compel a fucking twelve year old to try to kill himself // So as you watch my eyes glaze over in a lack of concern, my tongue still tethered to the lexicon of self-loathing // Ask yourself –have you ever felt that fucking broken? // It is for the sake of myself, that girl, and every other pre-teen suicide attemptee // That I’ll conjure up words and conquer something greater than the next drink // By pursuing a world in which I don’t have to be odds with ending my own // I’ll never need a reason to live // This one not to die is how I’ll get by // We’re all done with being defined // We can refine our absurdity // Let the rest the world dismissed you and // You can build yourself from nothing // You don’t need a reason to live // Find one not to die and you will thrive
|
||||
3. |
||||
Your absence lingers over a debt that’s self-imposed // To those
I keep around me, the same ones you held close // Though
it’s time I concede and embrace the defeat // That I might not double take at you on the street // It’s still a shame things played out the way that they did // I wonder if they hadn’t, if I’d still regret // The way that we lived, while I yearn to forget // How it was our teenage years came to their end // It’s a piece I’ll have to process, not one that I can own // As painful as that fact is, it’s the proper way to cope // When they used to call us old souls // We’d take pride, but act so bold // Not yet wise enough to notice // The fragility of youth // Though the fact is you should be here // The truth is that you’re gone // Because it’s all fun and games // Until someone won’t wake up // Back then we’d hear “you’re beyond your years” // Wasted breath that went, that went in one ear // Before it fell, it fell right out the other // We’d come to change the tense—the tense beside your name // Some of us have bands and // We know each other’s songs // Certain days remind us // You’re immortal in your youth // Though the tragedies we wove through // Bestow us with each verse // They still beckon up the burdens // We confront in waking up // Back then we’d hear “you’re beyond your years” // Wasted breath that went, that went in one ear // Before it fell, it fell right out the other // We’d come to change the tense—the tense beside your name // Though part of me resents you // I still hope that you’d be proud // Of the person I’m becoming // While the world falls to hell // The fact is you should be here // Though it’s not our fault you’re gone // Cause you’d be right up here beside us // But you overdosed on junk
|
||||
4. |
||||
I watched you snort drugs off of Dorian Gray // You used your ID to break the cocaine // You can’t comprehend that that photo won’t age // Keep going this way, you’ll die just the same // How did we think we had it all figured out? // The patterns were there, they just weren’t imposed // This isn’t the person you were meant to become // Reflective of nothing, rejoicing in wrongs // Your indulgence won’t be framed // For you to hide away the shame // Yet you cover the traces // Of your lies and disgraces // And claim that you’ve been absolved // Your indulgence won’t be framed // For you to evade the blame // So you lie to our faces // And expect our embrace when // You’re faced with consequence now // I should—probably learn to walk the walk // Since I—sure as shit talk the talk // When I was still young enough to think I was deep // It carried convenience condemning others for change // But when my life became tainted by the passage of days // A truth was then painted that no brush could portray // One can’t cast upon canvas the past I accused // I’ve since reconciled that relentless dispute // With each passing
day I bear my sins and my scars // Because I’ll fight to grow as
I come to age // Your indulgence won’t be framed // For you to hide away the shame // Yet you cover the traces // Of your lies and disgraces // And claim that you’ve been absolved // Your indulgence won’t be framed // For you to evade the blame // So you lie to our faces // And expect our embrace when // You’re faced with consequence now // I should—probably learn to walk the walk // Since I—sure as shit talk the talk // But at—least I’m trying to change // How is it you get through life thinking you’re deep? // Does it carry convenience to condemn us for change? // If your life were to be painted beyond the confines of days
// The picture would be tainted by all you’ve betrayed // You
still cast upon others the past you accuse // And project upon loved ones that relentless dispute // With each passing day you shun your sins and your scars // Because the rest us grew, but you’ve only aged // Your indulgence won’t be framed // For you to hide away the shame // Yet you cover the traces // Of your lies and disgraces // And claim that you’ve been absolved // Your indulgence won’t be framed // For you to evade the blame // So you lie to our faces // And expect our embrace but // You’re alone with the consequence now
|
||||
5. |
||||
It’s come time to build some new coping skills // That won’t contribute to the end of my life // Not to be dismal but I always took pride // Through all of the years I pursued my demise // When you’re nothing if not haunted // There’s no // Solace in your sleep // And with no rest for the wicked // No rest // Your nightmares become real // If I am to consider a prospective, full life // I need to embrace and embody the hope // That shimmers in blackness through traumatic reprise // Though the concern in the present is to get through the night // When you’re nothing if not haunted // There’s no // Solace in your sleep // And with no rest for the wicked // No rest // Your nightmares become real
|
||||
6. |
||||
7. |
Aquamarine
05:20
|
|||
Diversey down to Sheridan // Then Belmont to the lake // It dawned there, under blackened skies // I’d exhausted that routine // Nothing quite echoes your // Evasive state of being // Yet I wondered how we drifted from // What we could have been // I think back on a time and place // A past I can’t eradicate // The way you loved me in your stare // Can’t mend all the pain you feel // Surfaced in an unknown sea of endless pleasantries // I watched the lake shimmer in shades, in tones aquamarine // There it sank in how you spoke of such a cold and lonesome fate // Which explains why you were never there, but it’s not your fault I stayed // Some mornings I’m in traffic // I feel you pass me on the train // I hope you’re safer in your skin // But I sense your ache reverberate // I reflect back on that final day // A moment that took all your strength // The only one we both were there // You wept ‘goodbye,’ I brushed your hair // Surfaced in an unknown sea of endless pleasantries // I watched the lake shimmer in shades, in tones aquamarine // There it sank in how you spoke of such a cold and lonesome fate // Which explains why you were never there, but it’s not your fault I stayed // I may never write a song // That sends shivers down your spine // My voice is not so graceful // To provoke such flattery // I can only speak to trauma // And this path we’ve moved along // So from this point going forward // I’ll expose the world’s wrongs // I can accept the fact you hate me // That you don’t know who I am // All I ask is that you try // Try and understand // Please understand I tried // Please understand I tried // Please understand I tried // Please understand
// I tried //
Remember you once told me how you’d step out towards the lake? // The water would be freezing—you’d submerge and drift away // Your lungs would collapse, immersed—fill with water, blue and green // Though I’ve been beneath the surface—you deserve a better fate // Your eyes reflecting my perception—should they shimmer in that stone // Not to flicker out in blackness, as you drown in pain alone
|
||||
8. |
||||
Sucked back into the sun // Is this all we can become? // Sucked back into the sun // Displaced beneath the stars // If human nature’s built on greed the commodity of the air we breathe won’t come cheap when the day comes for us to all asphyxiate // The culture that we cultivate, the colonial narrative that states “accept a wage, you’re not a slave, but conditions are too late to change” // Is there such a thing as solace in disassociated worlds? // Have we simply reached the solstice and descended on return? // This struggle is systemic, corrosive at its core // These solipsistic visions to expropriate the earth // Serve some cosmic calling to enslave us from our birth // While the planet is imploding to accommodate its growth // They’re doubling up the bodies in the prisons and the morgues // But you retain your privilege when you advocate reform // Sucked back into the sun // Look at what we’ve become // Sucked back into the sun // Deny the looming shadow // Human nature fluctuates based on circumstance and change // While we create, will we embrace their inherent right to subjugate? // Our culture we can cultivate this instinctive narrative that states // “Reject their ways, you’re not a slave, the conditions are ours to claim” // There’s no such thing as solace in a genocidal world // We’ll confront the cataclysmic while the constellations burn // This fight against oppression must drive us at our cores // Dismantling every vision to commodify our worth // To serve the cosmic calling to preserve our planet earth // We can liberate the species while the nebulae disperse // Not reducing human beings to cells and freezer drawers // Cause the pursuit of abolition is to actualize reform // It’s the turning point in history where we die or we evolve // Earn our place among the planets or fall extinct among the stars // We can embrace emancipation or have hell eclipse us all // But the truth of human nature lies in the abandonment of the law
|
||||
9. |
||||
You’ve elected your progressives who promise minor changes // But who fills the private prisons and increases police spending? // Protecting fascists in the streets, tear gassing out poor tenants // Murder people for no reason, claiming uprisings are ‘violence’ // All these years and still I wonder— // Who you think that they’re protecting? // All this time and still I’m asking— // Why the fuck am I still asking? // History shows us what is done to opposition // Taking violent action when supremacy is threatened // Prey on class division, blaming victims of oppression // Exterminating all who advocate resistance // The realization that this systemic situation has caused massed incarceration, a contemporary plantation // But now we’re tired, so to this white man nation // It’s time we burn this shit down, this land is ours for the taking // Who herded who into slave ships and gas chambers? // How safe you must feel not to risk your comfort at all // Progress serves you but one day this all falls down // Claim what you want cause I know whose side you’re on // History shows us what is done to opposition // Taking violent action when supremacy is threatened // Prey on class division, blaming victims of oppression // Exterminating all who advocate resistance // They colonized and took all we had left, // I pledge allegiance with my knee on their necks // Probably prosper and take pride my forefathers had broke through those chains // No question I’ll do the same // I’d rather be hated and free at the sake of your comfort // I could really give a fuck if you think peace should really come first // Cause it wasn’t peace when my ancestors were hanging // So don’t ask for peace when my piece gets to banging // All these years and still I wonder— // Who you think that they’re protecting? // All this time and still I’m asking— // Why the fuck am I still asking? // Who herded who into slave ships and gas chambers? // How safe you must feel not to risk your comfort at all // Progress serves you but one day this all falls down // Claim what you want cause I know whose side you’re on // No longer holding interest in a call to opposition // Constructing social systems, from the ashes of oppression // No more class division at the hands of tyrant fascists // Demand your liberation through the mass emancipation
|
||||
10. |
||||
Upon the grave of Voltairine // I bowed my head in shame to think // What would her voice say, so serene // If she looked upon our world today? // Or better yet what could I claim // If she and I were face to face // Here, now, with our earth so gray // With all it’s evident decay? // I come back to the old cliché // Of those here rolling in their graves // How could we substantiate // Their sacrifice so Herculean? // Though I take on heaven’s weight // I’m not deluded by deceit // I’ve learned the power of my voice // This fly will buzz until you wake // The arm of Justice raised and bare // Her sword upheld, gleams its glare // Mothers, fathers your stern cries // Have burned my soul in this reprise // Written in red our protest stands // Illuminate! Seize the lands! // Set it alight by roaring flame // Emancipate! Our earth reclaimed! // Do you hear the pounding drum // The trampling feet and ceaseless hum? // And when our billion marchers come // Our martyrs will course through our blood // The arm of Justice raised and bare // Her sword upheld, gleams its glare // Mothers, fathers your stern cries // Have burned my soul in this reprise // Written in red our protest stands // Illuminate! Seize the lands! // Set it alight by roaring flame // Emancipate! Our earth reclaimed! // There, before their five bodies // Spies words in stone indebted me // As certain as the guilt I breathe // We’ll come to claim our liberty // The arm of Justice raised and bare // Her sword upheld, gleams its glare // Mothers, fathers your stern cries // Have burned my soul in this reprise // Written in red our protest stands // Illuminate! Seize the lands! // Set it alight by roaring flame // Emancipate! Our earth reclaimed!
|
||||
11. |
||||
Have you had to exist as the composite definition of // Externalized perceptions of your value based in contribution? // You become more than tired // Of what you’re told you can’t do // By those who made you ashamed // Of the pulse that you retain // And if they ask if you’re all right, you have to lie // I can’t change the world I’m in // By not livin the life I’d end // I’m far from the person I was but // Not still the one I’ll become // I’m too well adjusted to loss // To find myself concerned with the cost // I’m not still the person I was but // Far from the one I’ll become // To be subjugated in your skin // Is having to be told you’ll // Amount to nothing by a world // In which you are forced to live // You’re stripped of your autonomy // And you’re made to be patient // When you’re taught your only freedom // Is to find relief in death // I’m not “all right,” and I’m not going to lie to thank your supremacy anymore // I can’t change the world I’m in // By not livin the life I’d end // I’m far from the person I was but // Not still the one I’ll become // I’m too well adjusted to loss // To find myself concerned with the cost // I’m not still the person I was but // I’m proud of who I’ve become
|
||||
12. |
Early in May
04:01
|
|||
Last night I met Paul Robeson // He spoke softly by my bed // He whispered of our values // And those who paid for them // I said “but you’re among them now” // In that booming voice he laughed, // “Oh how the living think of death.” // I found myself on Randolph between Halsted and Des Plains // There’s something haunting being there that early in May // Don’t you fucking tell me that this is all in vain // Guns and ropes may end our lives, but there will come a day // “Young one you have much to learn // And much more yet to be” // I retorted back at him about the world as it is // He cautioned me so sternly then // “Do not be harnessed by your fear // A greater world lies ahead // Ignore what is currently” // I stand freezing in the alley behind Hubbard and Clark St. // What happened here still chills all these mid- November days // Don’t you fucking tell me that this is all in vain // Guns and ropes may end our lives, but there will come a day // So to every global power heed the warning we emit // Our voices have grown louder than the ones you strangled then
|
||||
13. |
||||
Excuse my lack of nuance here // So I can make this crystal clear // You should be fucking afraid // After telling me that isn’t rape // You don’t define consent // It’s not fucking different // You gave your friend a pass // Their connections don’t give them the right // To fuck somebody fighting back // The lines were not blurred // I’ve got no damn pity left // It’s not called sex without consent // You cowards are no advocates // We should roll your fuckin heads // Defeat is not consent // Fuck you and the Gingerman // That mother fuckin rapist den // And as for all your rock star friends // They protect you, we’ll hunt them, too // I’ve got no damn pity left // It’s not called sex without consent // You cowards are no advocates // We should roll your fuckin heads // Defeat is called // Defeat is fucking rape.
|
The Ableist Chicago, Illinois
Current:
Barry, Sean, Stephan, Pete, Paul.
Former/Rotating: Maddie, Jairus, Johnny, Dave.
Streaming and Download help
If you like The Ableist, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp