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credits

released August 1, 2007

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Construction & Destruction Port Greville, Nova Scotia

Spook rock book roll, emanating from the Atlantic littoral..

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Track Name: Feet
Now with my feet upon the floor.
Now with my feet upon the floor.
Now with my feet upon the floor.
Now with my feet upon the floor.


Never felt so solid.
Never felt so solid.
Never felt so solid.
Never felt so solid.

Never been so cold.
Never been so cold.
Never been so cold.
Never been so cold.
Track Name: Sleep in Fool
Take the van, we need some things.
We need some coffee and we
need some string.

Here is the list-
(and that’s when we kissed)
-I’ll give you a hand,
those things are heavy.
We like the old things and they
didn’t make ‘em easy.

And next time you leave,
I’ll be right on your sleeve.

So party with us,
our animal’s tame.
We’ve got the chips and pop and
all manner of things!

So life is a bust?
Don’t blame it on us!
I gave you the moon and the sky, so
don’t blame it on I;
I-, I-,
I am high!

Ah, sleep in, Fool!
Ah, sleep in, Fool!
Ah, sleep in, Fool!
Ah, sleep in, Fool!

We’ve got the change;
we’ve got today.
We might have a house that’s warm, but
we’ve never been sicker.
So let’s make some stickers!

I, I-
I, I,
I am high!

Ah, sleep in, Fool!
Ah, sleep in, Fool!
Ah, sleep in, Fool!
Ah, sleep in, Fool!
Track Name: The Guest
My eyes have fallen from face to chest,
and then the rest.
I like your shoes—
take ‘em off;
please do.

Have a seat,
I’ll clear a chair.
Be my guest:
(--I like your hair).

It’s warm here,
dry logs on the fire.
And a dog who knows his name.
(We’re glad you came.
We like your attire.)

Hold on,
I’ll get you a drink.
You’ve come far; your cheeks get pink.
There’s rice in the fridge,
I think.

I like your voice.
It’s word-class.
I got no choice;
you can sing like a bird.
And I like birds,
and dirty words.

CURL!
GIRL!
FUCK!
CHANGE!
STOP!
GRACE!
FACE!
CHASE!
LACE!
CHRIST!
HASTE!
TASTE!

I like your face.
Track Name: First Day
I drove to you with materials
gathering at my feet.
We’d been excavating, landscaping,
pushin’ it all around;
shaking barely detectable remnants
from our pant legs to the ground.
Leaving mounds;
leaving tumuli.

Now on my hands the carboniferous
moves across the wheel
and fills the foot-well with its sediment,
settling under my heels.
We are vertebrates and
it is a costly error to get buried;
to inter.

My sight is compromised,
though you’ve made clear
the detriment of a crack;
the consequence of unsecured glass
(like underground water, untapped).
So much matter, undetected metals,
still cannot be mapped.
Though I try.
Though we try.

(You know they will, you know they will,
you know they will, you know they…
You know they will, you know they will,
you know they will, you know they…)

We will stiffen to fossils at re-acquaintance,
governed as artifacts are.
If I brake I’ll emerge without torque,
un-locating a mark.
So I fall on the horn,
intending the decibel of the heart.
But it won’t sound.
And you can’t be found.

This is the first day that it won’t happen again…
(--You know it will, you know it will,
you know it will, you know it…)
Track Name: The Unconsolable
We feel the hand
coming down.
We feel countless
imminent chasms.

This isn’t what I --
This isn’t what I was trained to do.
This isn’t what I was trained to do.
This isn’t what I --
This isn’t what I was trained to do.
This isn’t what I was trained to do.
This isn’t what I --
This isn’t what I’m prepared to do.
This isn’t what I’m prepared to do.
This isn’t what I --
This isn’t what I’m prepared for.
This isn’t what I’m prepared for.

We don’t know how to comfort you.
You are the unconsolable.
You are the unconsolable.

So;
show me where it hurts.
Show me where it hurts.
Show me where it hurts.
Show me where it hurts.

Ah! You’re hurtin’, you’re hurtin’,
you’re hurtin’.
Oh! You’re hurtin’, you’re hurtin’,
you’re hurtin’.
Ah! You’re hurtin’, you’re hurtin’,
you’re hurtin’.
Oh! You’re hurtin’, you’re hurtin’,
you’re hurtin’.

Oh, show me where it hurts.
Oh, show me where it hurts.
Oh, show me where it hurts.
Oh, show me where it hurts.

Ah! You’re hurtin’, you’re hurtin’,
you’re hurtin’.
Oh! You’re hurtin’, you’re hurtin’,
you’re hurtin’.
Ah! You’re hurtin’, you’re hurtin’,
you’re hurtin’.
Ah! You’re hurtin’, you’re hurtin’,
you’re hurtin’.
Oh! Hurtin’, hurtin’,
hurtin’.
Track Name: The Sky is Too Blue
The ground is full of ruts on this old porter trail.
The sky is too blue; the fragrant air goes stale.
The ringing starts aloud and everything is pale.
Black pools of water move, and I know it’s on my tail.
The ground it dips and dives, on this old porter trail.

There’s nothing more important than the earth beneath my feet.
There’s no one I care more about than thee.
No other way to go except the cut path that I see,
only hoping that we stay inside the trees.

There’s nothing more important than the earth beneath my feet.
There’s no one I care more about than thee.
On and on I’m funnelled through this old trail that I know,
falling deeper into the ruts and grass and weeds.

There’s nothing more important than the earth beneath my feet.
There’s no one I care more about than thee.
There’s nothing more important than the earth beneath my feet.
There’s no one I care more about than thee.
There’s nothing more important than the earth beneath my feet.
There’s no one I care more about than thee.
Track Name: Dark Crash
All we can do is lay it away,
and hope that is does for you
what it claims.
And hope I can keep doing for you
the most.

You noted in this one an historical sound;
a quality of peal lost on me.
You’d already hit every one,
and oh! the way it was wrought.

The oil is low and as black as most nights
we take on and drive into laterally.
The wipers are shit and they leave my side
so obscured.

I’m always re-setting the short-term odometer.
I’m always thinking of re-treading tires.
You like the feel of centrifugal movement;
I like velocity.

This will mean:
me standing in the street again,
signalling you through the window as you strike it.
This will mean:
this is the point at which
you can no longer be heard.

That will mean:
you can’t hear me through the din.
That will mean:
I’m slipping back from the center.
That will mean:
my ear petrified to tin,
and yours like a lily.

That will mean:
my ear petrified to tin!
That will mean:
my ear petrified to tin!
That will mean:
my ear petrified to tin!,
and your aural gilded.
Track Name: Defective
Before we begin, we anticipate the end;
neither glad, either way.
We are experienced and relaxed all the time.
Before I begin the end is held above me;
hangs by twine, and sways and sways,
and I have to talk it down.

“Take it down a notch, my friend”, I say.
“You are a good person!” I say.
“We all have struggles, sometimes.
We are all defective!” I call.
“We are all defective!” I call.

What are you feeding us?
Don’t taste like anything;
it’s neither fowl, nor foul.
How are you eating these days?
You know, taste ain’t everything:
antifreeze is sweet.

“You know what that sounds like?” I say.
“We made a bum purchase,” I say.

King Cobbs, crocks, and candy;
that’s all.
Is no more exotic than me.

“It’s carcinogenic!” I call.

“You know what that sounds like?” I say.
“We made a bum purchase,” I say.

King Cobbs, crocks, and candy;
that’s all.
Is no more exotic than me.

We are all infected, with it!
We are all infected, that’s it!
We are all defective, that’s all!
We are all defective, that’s it!
Track Name: Frozen to the Phone
Sun’s behind clouds now,
and I’ve got to stay the same.
Air mass on its way;
cold air blowin’ rain.
It blows the rain.

Goodbye you sharp day.
The spring is just a tease.
Spruce logs have been arrested;
they’re as green as antifreeze.
As antifreeze!

Ah!

Dusk is phantom upon us;
the wet is in my bones.
Nothing to say but I’ll talk to you,
fingers frozen to the phone.
To the phone!

I know you lied to me!
I know you lied to me!
Sure as the stick is on the tree.
I know you lied to me!
Track Name: In From the Light
Prop me up.
Observe my latest little theater;
extrapolate, extrapolate, extrapolate!

Step me back,
in from the light and the proscenium;
clap, clap, clap!

My constitution
will be embellished now and then.
(--Elaborate, elaborate, elaborate!)

Play it off,
for those deserving of the act.
Reverberate, reverberate, reverberate!

I didn’t mean for you to know;
I didn’t mean for you to see;
I didn’t mean for you to come;
I didn’t mean to cause a scene!
Attempts are made each and every day!
You’ve got to syncopate your ways!

I’m a non-believer!

How?!
Track Name: Perimeter
So this is June;
so this is you,
so sudden and soon.
And your perimeter:
here;
and here;
and here;


Now we know where I’m not,
don’t we just know where I’m not?
And some kind of chrysalis caught in the crux
of a tree would know better its mind and its habits,
and wouldn’t you think that the pull
of the magnetic north would be something
from which I could work off of?
But even the True North is transient.

I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know,
I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know,
if there’re no edges to unfurl;
if there’s nothing of substance.

Once I was young and indignant about intrusion.
And maybe loved science and relished the act of fusion.
And now I am young and given to fits of elocution,
but coming to terms with the fact of
constant elusion.

The courses will force their way down from the mount
and into the bodies of water they seek.
And nothing you do, no known ceremony,
will deter their ranks or lessen their speed.

A step to the side isn’t what I intended to take.
But sometimes a force on the leash will unearth a stake.

I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know,
I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know,
if there’re no edges to unfurl;
if there’s nothing of substance.
Track Name: Batteries
Batteries, batteries:
will you give some kick to me?
I am tired, will you please
charge me up so I can see?
Ain’t it grand when you can stand,
when you can breathe and just be?
Put the garbage in the can;
see no ghosts in the TV.
Armouries, armour me:
give me standard-issue keys.
I am little, and I seem to float around
after I sneeze.
Hear my plea: give me grease!
I could work if there was peace.
Battery, batter me!
A massage is all I need.
I need the grease;
I need the geese to wander back
where I can see.
Honesty, honestly; it is a wicked-sided coin.
You’ve got to fit to say the truth;
you’ve got to lie and, by and by,
a ray of light can end up spangled;
your angle might get tangled;
and your subject ends up mangled,
--maimed.
And a villain of the game.

Batteries, batteries, batteries… […]

Batteries, batteries:
will you give some kick to me?
I am tired, will you please
charge me up so I can see?
Ain’t it grand when you can stand,
when you can breathe and just be?
Put the garbage in the can;
see no ghosts in the TV.
Armouries, armour me:
give me standard-issue keys.
I am little, and I seem to float around
after I sneeze!
Hear my pleas: give me grease!
I could work if there was peace.
Battery, batter me!
A massage is all I need.
I need the grease;
I need the geese to wander back
where I can see.
Honesty, honestly; it is a wicked-sided coin.
You’ve got to fit to say the truth;
you’ve got to lie and, by and by,
a ray of light can end up spangled;
and your angle might get tangled;
and your subject ends up mangled!

Batteries, batteries, batteries… […]
Armour me! Armour me! Armour me! […]
Track Name: Thank You
Thank you:
for all you’ve done thus far.
Thank you:
you are an evening star.

All the pretty things we’re feeling,
can’t be seen by anyone
but me; I can see:
thank you.

Bless you:
no one else, just you.
Bless you:
you are the button I can’t undo.
You can vibrate like a baby;
you can part the wicked sun.
Bless you:
you are the one.

How are you?
You’re tired, I’ll carry you.
How are you?
Your heart; I’ll bury you.
If you’re hungry, I will feed you.
If you’re broken, bring the glue.
And be true:
how are you?
Track Name: The Long Now
I meant to join the natural world;
I meant to move with my circadian clock.
But I took the tooth out of the stock,
and learned to speak at intervals.
Uh-oh.
Uh-oh.
Oh no!

Push your way through
if you can’t get in.
Shove it aside if I’ve locked the door;
barrel on in, like I’ve said before:
what’s done, is done, is done.
What’s done, is done, is done.

Lift up your ear off the worn floor.
Abandon next your biological imperative.
See how you are a source of constant narrative?
Pull back your glass from the door.
Uh-oh.
Uh-oh.
Oh no!

Push your way through
if you can’t get in.
Shove it aside if I’ve locked the door;
barrel on in, like I’ve said before:
what’s done, is done, is done.
What’s done, is done, is done.

We’ve hit the Long Now! […]
Track Name: Ouroboros
We all come to each other,
of our own volition:
like the ram on the ram,
or a thick ouroboros.

I don’t like the mark
of the spark that you
leave,
when you leave.

The growth on the cervid
will lead it to loggerheads
and the whole thing will
bring it to tears.

I don’t like the mark
of the spark that you
leave,
when you leave.