Lyrics to "Living In Squalor" 7 inch

Ok so we released another record with no lyrics in the insert so we are posting them here now. All lyrics by Katie Crutchfield, written sometime in 2009 besides "Broken Record" which is an old song.

BROKEN RECORD
you're trying to relate
it's not today, it's just the way
you feel subjectively confined
i bite my tongue all the time
you slip out of our sight
you never say goodbye
and i'm not passing judgement
i'm just telling you i empathize

proverbial say, we can hear the words decay
yeah we've heard it all before
a tiger and a broken record

conquest, speed the decline
dawn of love or gemini
and i hardly believe that shit
it just helps to pass the time
you're scarcely disconnected
like the walls you're yelling through
and your brain has no real say
you'll lose faith throughout, its the pursuit
yeah, i'm just telling you i've been there too

lalalalalalalalalalalalala



ACID FLASHBACKS
3, 4, in the kitchen, on the floor
it's a similar routine
this stark, smitten reality
and you just laugh at me
because it's getting late
maybe we're barking up the wrong tree
it's like magnetism plays no role now
in these politics that we construe
tired efforts just to keep collected
to avoid apparitions of you
or maybe of me and you

1, 2, i get pulled right on top of you
easily intrigued departs from my peace of mind
in basements up and down the east coast
our loneliness gets intertwined
our eyelines longing to connect
our brains are restless and afraid
modest rapture spreads like a plague
we let it fluster and slowly fade

i'm gone i'll take my sense of direction
and maybe i'll stay gone forever
i'm gone i'll take my inclination
and maybe i'll stay gone forever
i'm gone i'll take my strong connections
and maybe i'll stay gone forever
i'm gone i'll take my best ideas
and maybe i'll stay gone forever

3, 4, dismissal chills me to my core
maybe i'm right, maybe fidelity is obsolete
maybe we confuse love for remission
or complacency for defeat
maybe solitude will bring you nothing but
devotion always brings despair
i see the words on the wall as the answer
the answer to a prayer
i never pray for nothing
i don't pray for anything


CRY UNCLE
i've got
good reason, you know i don't really know what to say
your curious incentive, i don't know why i feel this way
i never treated you right, i never intended to change
you got that old green toboggan, fits you tight like my demission
you grandfather me in like i deserve your kind remission
i know i'm selfish, i know i'll only hurt you again

and you just submit because we're only human, baby
lets take this night by night
you submit because we're only human, baby
it's not all black and white

i've got
pleasant thought, you know i don't know how i sleep at night
charisma smothers guilt, like i could hide feeling contrite
what was i working for between a rock and a cold hardwood floor?
all these modern concepts i'll leave to your modern capacity
i know i can't help myself, let monogamy recapture me
i get accustomed, i get comfortable



DARK
i've been talking
my brain's been absent from the start
it's warm and this is new
its a plague on my withheld affection
when it gets dark
i'm lying alone
modesty tries our subversive speech
ill at ease in the same boat as you
but you feel so out of reach
and it's so dark

this buffer i've built up is growing resoundingly lax
i should learn how to look at you and you should learn how to relax

i've been thinking, this distance doesn't mean anything
there's a reason i am rapt assigned to every mile in between


BEAR NAMED OTIS
i write you letters all the time
i never send them, this is supposed to ease my mind
exhaust restraint until i'm no longer inclined
dock of the bay
you won't let me stay

our excuses will always stay the same
seemingly pressing things, stimulants, playing games
all our empty exchange crammed into a frame
dock of the bay
you won't let me stay
it's not a choice it's just the slow praxis decay

black coffee, motels, unstrung energy
decisive days are becoming few and far between
your diligent remorse doesn't mean anything
these rose-colored encounters are becoming few and far between

our parents met on the backseats of datsuns
and we met on some stranger's floor last year in washington
the evolution of a desperate connection
dock of the bay
you won't let me stay
it's not a choice, its your dismal, jaded display