by Treadles

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it was so bad, bad, bad when he was so sick, sick, sick and he tried six, six, six times to make it all right but he died too soon and now he's gone, gone, gone so long, so long and he did good, good, good and he did wrong, wrong, wrong he kept his eyes peeled 'til they were raw neither one blinks anymore all his bones carved up to scrimshaw she was so mean, mean, mean to let him dream
sing me a song about how you were wrong about everything under the sun and how you want to collect every single regret and throw them out under a bus that's just not common sense, and I would not recommend going back to where ever you came from everything's different now, there is no common ground, they would not listen to you, love that's just not common sense
/ / /
you say you're flying high, on butterflies but my, my guts are full of rust and I - I'm bone dry, I'm so tired I'm so tired woke up with a demon on my chest his name was Regret it's tattooed across his face for everyone to see someone please get this monster off of me shaken from a lovely dream pleading to go back to sleep his grip should be tenuous at best, but he keeps his claws a fist and draws you in like flies to flesh
/ / /
spent the night nursing my wounds and maybe a beer or two spent the night scratching the surface of the moon, or maybe that was you spent the night curled up with nothing trying to be something spent the night alive but uncertain, hurting but unsure about why spent the night burning down bridges, tearing down Rome because of an itch
staple your hands together to keep from showing off and maybe sew your mouth shut keep your feet to the ground, but don't go walking off without me clench your eyes shut tight to keep from seeing all the things that have gone wrong keep your head in the clouds, but don't go floating off without me rip off your finger tips and swallow your calluses to keep yourself raw, but don't bleeding dry without me you're all I need besides oxygen and sometimes sleep
don't compliment me, I'll take it wrong it's whispered out like a spell just lie back and take your fate grab your branch by the thorns, vague vagary some soothing sounds and waterlogged thoughts of anyone unloved some trickle down theory of alien communication vague vagary, vague vagary the screeching brakes of a city bus headed anywhere not here vague vagary
slugs in the sink - all salty, all caught on fire but all I can hear is the rats on wires all cut up and looking like people something so simple, something so doubtful eating shit off your own plate is so great when you're old enough to know why no one's around all alone in your castle made of old bones and you can drink enough to drown dripping with sweat but shaking like a leaf enough nothing in between for it to be it's own town that's enough that's good enough
surrounded by the softly flowing fuzz of friends who seem so far away your mouth is full of smoke, you're glowing red and carbon seems to split the day but still I like you the best, you're my favorite one of all the ones you don't wanna be one of sad eyes and smile at the same time, and touch with our intersecting lines I'm dropping out of space camp just to make sure everything's fine and I can tell this isn't a love song, but can you tell that I'm always wrong? and cozy comforts never seemed to lack, but now there's something so long gone be still, I like you the best, you're my favorite potential regret neither here nor there ever again you're my favorite one of all the ones you don't wanna be one of anymore


For Bill Suter


released December 19, 2014

Recorded and mixed by Tim Stafford, except Potential, which was recorded by Shibby Poole. Thanks, y'all.


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Treadles New Orleans, Louisiana

no longer just a lump of coal

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