1. |
Tar and Feathers
03:11
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tar and feathers
ashtrays lost count of wayward days.
i can’t keep calendars straight.
halfway between asleep and awake,
we keep dredging on.
we keep plugging away.
astray,
it’s time to say so long.
today, consider this a countdown.
here’s to living without you.
here’s to overwhelming relief.
here’s to all that we got through.
here’s to all that lies beneath.
here’s to breathing without you.
here’s to the difference of want and need
and which i thought you belonged to
and what you really are.
amazed, i’ve broken through the chains.
they can’t keep calendars tamed.
i face a world freed from the daze
i now see beyond,
i now see fade away.
thought i was too far gone.
afraid i would never break out.
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2. |
Plus or Minus One
03:36
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plus or minus one
i figured out
what the figures mean:
they keep us incarcerated.
on the ground,
wallets bleed,
pouring pocketfuls of change.
decimated by decimal places,
paper cages known as home.
transparent halls see what your fate is.
will that glass ceiling fall?
awaited by blue skies
far past the concrete calling.
i am breaking out.
i am breaking down.
we’re reaching out
beyond our means,
fingertips feel frustrated.
scream at the sound
of broken dreams.
frozen fractured states.
decimated by dead men’s faces
and apparitions’ woes,
shackled by metal embraces,
bound to the wall.
we’re losing who the hell we are:
emerald and jaded;
confusing; bruised behind the bars;
emasculated.
in darkness, we might find
the faint shine of hope
but the brightness, it could blind
as our eyes reopen.
are we worth nothing?
just put me into the positive.
are we worth nothing?
you’re worth more than you know.
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3. |
Barcelona
04:08
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barcelona
on the train when we thought we lost you
on our way to a spanish shore.
as the sun sets, we forget
that you left us too long ago
but not long ago.
back in paris, after we lost you
and found you sleeping on the lobby floor,
and you said that your head
and heart have been beating slow.
i know just how you feel.
we’ll meet again in barcelona.
we’ll meet again in another life.
we’ll never feel like we did in barcelona
and i guess you missed those nights.
there in london we thought we lost you
as we waited for our plane to board
but alas no plane crash
to keep us away from home
how could we have known?
in the morning from these states,
our loss is colossal.
for granted, the things we take:
we can’t hear it.
mourning for your sake,
the thought impossible.
regretting our mistakes,
sincerely unreal.
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4. |
Silver Snakes
02:53
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silver snakes
your words are dipped in
silver of the rarest kind.
once sent tenses fail,
they’re redefined.
the world we live in
stripped of all that was inside
when we’ve fallen pale
about to die.
your words are drenched in
the sweetest of all lies
when deception prevails,
we see behind
the masquerading
equipped to keep us blind
to the whipping of tails
coiled out of sight.
if it seems alright
then it must be wrong.
we can’t feel the bite
when disguised by song.
exposed, we find
the flow of honest bloodlines.
let go. unwind.
your serpentine-like eyes
say that i should be scared of you.
if you’re wound too tight
then it won’t be long
until your scales might
slither out in the sun
you’re posed to strike
the flow of venom bloodlines.
you know it’s time
your serpentine-like eyes
say that i got the best of you.
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5. |
Disarm the Alarms
03:52
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disarm the alarms
to be sleeping by the phone
waiting for an answer:
maybe this is madness defined.
vacuous, your bones.
emptiness, a cancer.
maybe now our marrow resigns.
to be staring at that phone,
silent, this disaster.
maybe someone cut off the line.
dead without a tone,
punch the numbers faster.
maybe you first have to hit nine.
i’m hanging up.
you’re hung over.
i’m giving up.
could this get older?
you’re not alone
but it feels like no one’s calling.
once made of stone,
the walls have been caving in.
you’re not alone
if you don’t mind recalling.
reaching out for you.
you’re not too far gone.
to be cursing at that phone,
blame it on that bastard
maybe you should see as a sign.
circled in a room
but i’m still in your corner.
maybe after all we’ll be fine.
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6. |
Goodbye Satellite
04:31
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goodbye satellite
your heart is bleeding chemtrails
into interstellar seas
evaporating daytime,
you’re skipping all the beats.
so far, so good.
you’ve really done your best.
our telescopes are cracked.
you’ve sabotaged the craft.
you’re world’s apart.
the engines start to say that
we’re leaving without you.
lost in the dark,
you drift too far.
you’re caught in the vacuum.
so goodbye satellite.
communication is confounded.
dishes down. disarray.
this is sorrow:
gravitation towards ungrounded.
out of sound, outer space
in the outer hollows.
you’re your own
runaway train in the form
of shooting stars carving scars
in the arms of the dark.
call it new names: metaphors
of the wrong time
and the wrong place for
you’re on your own.
conversation is enshrouded.
this is how we part ways
until tomorrow.
lamentation becomes unclouded
out of sound, outer space
in the outer hollows.
you’re floating out of orbit.
you’re flying out of sight.
it’s not too long until you’re gone now.
so sleep tight.
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7. |
Vacancy, No Vacancy
03:39
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vacancy, no vacancy
your shelf life
isn’t all that you think.
the dates you put faith in
are weak and waning.
with more ground you gain, you sink.
the walls might
keep you from the brink
of total destruction,
brief interruption
but does that cut it?
it all comes crashing down.
it all comes crashing down around you.
the lights are on but there’s nobody home.
if there’s something wrong, no one will have known.
we’re unfettered by final letters.
you’ve come untethered at the joints of bones
but together, we could’ve weathered
any measures our way thrown.
your half life
isn’t all that you dream
in states of sedation.
as you awaken,
it compounds so the more you sleep.
the walls might
push you to the brink
of complete corruption.
reconstruction
because you can cut it.
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8. |
Finger Point Painting
02:36
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finger point painting
your art is dead and cold;
broken likes panes of windows
shattered by winter’s prose.
lord knows what they think about it.
your art’s been left unsold;
faceless to nameless sideshows,
sometimes lost and that’s how it goes.
what can we do about it?
i’m drying out.
arbitrary
is the nature
of a failure
we make believe.
change the story.
meet your maker
with eyes like razors
and on your feet.
your art is heart and soul
painted for saints and heroes
defined by what your eye beholds.
forget what they think about it.
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9. |
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long live the coffin dodger
you're thinking
this must be getting old
when that sinking feeling
crawls down your bones.
somehow we found
out together just where we are:
lost in a one light town.
we're insignificant.
please turn up the stereo
and play it louder.
drown out scenarios
where we relinquish our power.
a half step from deaf to dead,
i'm praying for a miracle
as i am gradually reaching
over the top of the hill
in a place where i'm slowly dying.
ailing and ill,
i'm just killing time.
we're watching
our little lives unfold
when that haunting feeling
crawls down our bones.
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10. |
Memorial Wings
04:14
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memorial wings
there he lies paralyzed,
so anxious and listless.
terrified, his hands are tied
still to the table.
parasite’s pair of eyes
surely a witness to
chopping him down
until there’s nothing
quite left of you now.
sever the world
like arms amputated.
cutting the nerve
until his blood will flow.
classified by lonely flies:
immobile, defenseless.
anesthetized, he pushed his knife
straight through to the table.
his demise self-prescribed,
numbing and senseless to
the sawing sound
until there’s nothing
quite left of him now.
punish the world.
we’re decapitated.
dissecting the nerves
and his head will roll.
hello?
is anyone there?
is anyone listening?
does anyone care?
where is absent operator?
dead connection.
try it later
when your heartbeat’s impalpable.
you’re reticent to take your medicine.
your skin’s turning purple.
you’re hesitant to let us in,
clean cut with a scalpel.
on top of the world,
highly anticipated
detaching the nerves.
observe the show.
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11. |
XM Radioactive
03:25
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xm radioactive
we’re toxic material:
iridescent and eyes glowing green,
killing slowly before you feel
it boiling over.
it is nothing if not surreal.
it’s transcendence from fatal mystique.
sapphire hues lose all appeal.
it’s rolling over.
we throw it out in the ocean.
we put it in the past,
lead weighted,
and we pray
that it stays
on underwater floors
unoxygenated.
we’re toxic material,
phosphorescent and radiating.
dying slowly before we heal,
we’re boiling over.
another piece falls
from breaking her heart,
she’s breathing
through tattered lungs.
the lights go dark.
she’s sleeping.
we’re awake,
alone:
it’s not time to say goodnight.
please stay
so close.
we don’t want to say goodbye.
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12. |
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random scenes from a character assassination
you’re so handy with a knife.
your voice is a stiletto
buried deep within my spine.
you’re always on
point with the parallel
of an undefined line.
the words you spawn:
straight as a carousel
as it propels around.
show me a night
when you don’t play a vampire.
transformed by the light,
you’ve lost your glow.
at the close of the night,
when you finally expire,
who knows what rewrite
you’ll start tomorrow.
you’re no stranger to a lie.
you talk in a falsetto
hollowed out inside.
the curtain’s drawn.
time for the oversell
to us deaf, dumb and blind.
your words are a psalm
sweeter than caramel.
a fond farewell in sound.
can i have your autograph
grafted in my skin
before you’re bigger than heart attacks
so i can say i knew you way back when?
we’re old school like photographs
and i see you’re just as thin.
empty is this paper.
dry is this pen.
can i have your autograph?
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13. |
Wanderlust
05:49
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wanderlust
you'd be drying your eyes
if i said i'm leaving.
or would it even wake you?
pretend to be sleeping.
i'd catch you by surprise.
you'd be barely breathing.
or is the thought to you
just so appealing?
i'm gone on holiday.
leave a message at the tone.
while i'm far away
i might think about you.
oh wanderlust,
you've got me wishing
i was anywhere but here.
here's to taking off.
and shutting my eyes.
and boxing my ears.
we should say our goodbyes
as planes hit the ceiling
and are buried by blue:
both sky and feeling.
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The Owl in Daylight Los Angeles, California
welcome to THE OWL IN DAYLIGHT: a tight-knit, los angeles-based pop-punk / post-hardcore band, rooted in a sound that they grew up with; nostalgia for east bay, ca & chicago pop-punk rock of the 90’s, blending high-energy rhythms & singalong vocal hooks. lyrically grounded in poetry, THE OWL IN DAYLIGHT bridges the gap of seemingly simplistic, catchy, punk rock style & technical, progressive edge. ... more
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