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lyrics

Solace innate, inane, and so true. Sharpness engraved, enraged, to hurt you. I feel uncaged, brave, under curfew. This ancient age, arranged, a purview. You are a sage, insane, and so true; hollow, opaque, solid, and see-through.

Lar de Clune, I spell your doom. You're on another.

I need you to be a big big big big mouth, and let your letters out. Run down and do the rumbly-tumbly-bumbly throwdown with my little ones. Work out, get the lead out, put your head out, and grow a water spout. The fire in your heart will melt eleven or twelve sired counterparts: my children, your grandchildren, their grandchildren, future pilgrims, future phantoms, little tantrums, we will have them in our family.

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from Above Genus, Below Order, released January 7, 2013

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Spiral Ganglion Alberta

For ten years, Ivan Reese recorded one second of music for every ninety-one seconds of his life. Here's some of it.

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