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PARADE

by Nail Houses

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1.
You want to tell me what to put in my skull? It's full of black holes. Take a look in my eyes! Sharp spires get dull. I can't de-oxidize; so mystical. Sculptors get bored with their tools. Anchor yourself to the trench and pull. "Wait, commander!"
2.
Excellerator 02:54
I stepped in to the infirmary. Stared at the ceiling in front of me. I saw those bodies on the bed. I saw those tubes inside your head. White walls made me feel betrayed. White walls betrayed the color grey. I've never gotten an answer from a well-dressed man Was never given the cure; never told the plan. I stand, in stone, alone. The ego never wants to stop. The ego denies it will rot. I saw my body on the floor. I wasn't moving anymore. The fear was seeping out my pores. My pores... This is a place I know too well; this is a place where fear does dwell. Among the birds and the plastic trees, it's waiting to bring you to your knees (and it does). You can sell yourself a story, or you can write yourself a book, but the fear will always linger: Digging into your back, ripping at your skin, clawed in like a million hooks. If there is a better way, we could find a way, we could sus it out. If there is another way, then we'll find a way, we will work it out. I've never met an honest man in a suit. I never bit the bullet. I never told you to shoot. I stand, alone, atoned.
3.
Rapidly moving through the city of sleep, it stops for rest before chugging on. Rapidly moving, it's an idiot's parade; its spider legs tower over buildings Suddenly there's a disturbance up front; A new fool takes hold of the group. Lumbering like an ape in a cage, he doesn't understand captivity. Stay! The eyes, the eyes are moving 'round. The eyes! The eyes! Stray, my eyes, my eyes! It's coming down. The eyes! The eyes! The newest leader formulates a plan: down with those not part of the tribe. The newest leader does not comprehend that he will soon be outside of party lines. His flock disperses to conquer the buildings, smashing windows and burning books. When reconvened they turn to him, and with looks of doubt they ask "what's next?" Stay! The eyes, the eyes are moving 'round. The eyes! The eyes! Stray, my eyes, my eyes! It's coming down. The eyes! The eyes! Whether endeavors are well spent is not up to you. It's up to the cosmic chariot. Often the holy will hold true to what is skewed. They bloom in a post-fact society. Surprisingly complex thoughts from multi-celled organisms, delivered at high speed to your cerebellum. The only answer is what you believe in, but weigh that against the suffering of other people.
4.
Mask Signal 02:24
4:30PM: be at agreed place Put on my mask, wait for the drop; after that, take us away. 6:30PM: swallow capsules. After effects, protect metals. Wait for mask signal.
5.
Am I speaking to you or a facade? In post-modern culture no one likes this song. Keep the loosest grip and we'll get along. In post-modern culture everyone likes this song. Half-cocked, ready. We pull back and then exhale smoke. Guess I'd open this with a joke. Do not philosophize upon fragments and lists. Guess I'd open this with a kiss. Half-cocked, ready. I could jury-rig identity through irony in order to conceal the massive emptiness that's lurking deep inside of me, and if I had a script in hand I'd know the lines, play the parts. All I need to hear from you is who to be and where to start. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY. READY.

about

PARADE is a collection of songs about rituals and masks.

credits

released May 5, 2017

J. Hidell - vocals, guitar, bass, drum programming, production, mixing
Simon Nicol - engineering, production, mixing, mastering, background vocals (track 5)
Ryan Alexander - cover photo, background vocals (track 5)

All songs and lyrics written by J. Hidell.

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tags

about

Nail Houses Washington

Uncomfortable music for uncomfortable people.

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