The Recordings Of​.​.​.

by Sun Brother

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This was recorded late December/early January of 2012.


released August 29, 2012

We can't really thank Spencer Walters enough for engineering and producing this. None of this would have been possible without his devotion to making this sound like it does. He spent countless hours helping to mold that which you are currently listening.



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Christian Lyon Chicago, Illinois

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Track Name: Waves (Calculation)
There's never been a cause worth fighting for.
There's only been effects, punishments, and rewards.

I've never known a way to know other people right
Except to compare their face, contrast on sight.
They tell me that it isn't right, so what's the sense in having eyes?

They never taught me how to scale, calculate real cold--
To test the weight of words I tell and that I am told.
So later on was sink or swim, I found the water closing in.
Track Name: Divide
I played a game, but just for the trophy,
Though not to say that gold was spray paint
That peeled away, became unappealing in time.
The figures at the top are glimmering, glittering, glistening, listening.

I checked the clock, but just for the numbers
That I think I could easily divide.
But the chemicals confuse blocky digitals
Providing only fractions, dates, and time.

I molded my mouth to smile wider,
Though not to say it changed without some pain.
Steel brackets and frames fastened together,
Forming metal mesh to keep them safe.
Though I am scared they're shifting back in place.

I carved with lead across every camera:
"It doesn't look like we are going back."
But when memory's placing past with the pleasant,
In the glass are just the words I scratched.

Decisions aren't decisions unless they make you cringe
And fragment you further like a natural dividend.
A cause's connotation is decided
Once the conflict has subsided
And you find yourself stop trying.
Track Name: Young Man
When I was a young man, I had longish hair;
Weaving through perfume and very aware.
Bits of their scents would engage and unite
So I never fought harder than just saying "hi."
If I wanted to know them, they were already mine.

My best friend is thoughtful, my best friend is kind.
My best friend, she loved me when I had the time.
She loved me so much that she helped me to die;
Clawed at my face until I bled out my eyes.

I stumbled across you, the friend of a friend.
I nervously mentioned you in conversations.
I know that I'm told to save judgment;
I know that you and I have never met,
and I know even further that we never will.
In place of time that you and I could have spent,
You'll stay inside your home, paint your nails or toes,
Hell, you might do them both.
Track Name: Reservation Blankets
If the thoughts of me met the thoughts of them,
They'd probably end up all being friends.
Though the rift of clothes and friends and bones
Refuse to melt to molten, syrupped drones.

I dragged a rusted muffler and I matched its
Broken audio to the sound of the stereo.

In this house, we all sleep with reservation blankets,
in the stitchin’ that has started fraying.
Was anything really innocent?
Or did I grow out of how I remembered it?

I'm headed out of this house with
Destinations and ancient fascinations.
And I'll take our map and consider it
Any time I'm plotting new coordinates.

But I turned around and saw yours on the ground
With all the locations blotted out.

So, when did you become a mapmaker?
And when did you become a metaphor?