Split w/ PhyllisDietrichson

by Dérive

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about

Released by Hell Vice Vicious Records. www.hellviceivicious.com
From HVIV22.
split w/ PhyllisDietrichson. Listen to their side at: phyllisdietrichson.bandcamp.com

credits

released 14 December 2013
Dérive is:
Justin Belden - Bass, Vocals
Paul DeGrandpre - Drums, Vocals
Paul Schmelz - Electric guitar, percussion, vocals
Greg Nahabedian - Acoustic guitar, electric guitar, piano, keyboard, accordion, percussion, vocals

Additional vocals by Jessica Hesse


Recorded by Paul Schmelz and Dérive in Hampstead, New Hampshire. November 22-24.
Mixed by Paul Schmelz and Dérive.
Mastered by Tyler Bisson at Audio Geography - Bethel, CT
www.audiogeography.com

tags

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist
Track Name: Course Correction
If there was another way to go
Then I missed it 21 years ago
In a better town or on a better street
I could drown myself in a symphony
Well, if time allowed I’d stop these sounds
I’d tear them up and I’d put them in the ground
Or I’d write a new song with a brand new beat
I’d try to sleep with brand new dreams

If there was another way to be
Then I missed that road. I missed that street.
I missed some sign that everyone else saw.
I went right past it and now I’m lost.
I want one last kiss goodnight
To separate these things from my life
I’ll lie still until the morning light
Nothing here sounds right

Playing the piano with busted fingers.

None of my songs sound right
None of my songs sound right
I need a sign. I need a sign.
My head’s always filled with these sounds that linger
And I’m playing the piano with busted fingers

This scene seems like a thousand bad dreams
My lungs work fine I have no idea how to scream

We need a brand new song with a brand new beat.
Track Name: Mannequin Slave Trade
This scene seems like a thousand bad dreams
Your lungs are full of air but you still can’t scream.
Where? Why? How did I get on this train?
It won’t stop rolling and we’re going insane.

Muddy ice cubes mix a shitty drink.
You’re been reading books but you still can’t think.
I wrote a song for all the things I want to say
I try to hit the keys but they still won’t play.

Here comes the man:

There’s no heroes on the radio.
There’s no heroes on my stereo.
There’s no heroes in the books I’m reading.
There’s no heroes in the films I’m seeing.
There’s no heroes in the songs we’re singing
There’s no heroes in the message we’re bringing
There’s no heroes in the things I’m praying
There’s no heroes in the music I’m playing.

This dream seems like I’m shoveling steam.
This dream seems like I’m swimming upstream.
I think I had admission but then I lost that card.
Can I get to heaven if I knock really hard?

This dream seems like I’m shoveling steam.
This dream seems like I’m swimming upstream.
I used to have a boat but they shot it full of holes.
Can I get to heaven if I really really row?

This thing stings like a broken wing.
Your mouth is open wide but you still can’t sing.
Talk. Talk. Nothing but talk.
Your legs work fine but you can’t walk.
Track Name: On The Edge of Fertile Territory
Her entire body was shaking like an empty maraca.
Now I can sing like a tree trunk splitting.
Her entire body was shaking like an empty maraca.
Now I can sing like a skyscraper crashing.

This one was a stillborn melody
This one was a lovesick harmony
This one was a place I thought I was just passing
And her entire body trembles like a windshield cracking.

Her entire body was shaking like an empty maraca.
And her eardrums buzz like empty stereos.
Her entire body was shaking like an empty maraca.
And her synapses fire like a million useless drones.

I think she tried to open her mouth to sing
And vomited one thousand broken wings
She’s a drug addled lie. She’s a one night fling.
And her entire body shakes like an airplane exploding.

This scene seems like a dying machine.
I’m a drop of water in a sea of bad dreams.
A stillborn melody caught in my throat
A miscarried song on the stereo

What words slithered to your ears from her mouth?
I tell you what’s what. This feels like a million paper cuts.
Did she hold you tight? Did you scream all night?
Every kiss feels like a spider bite.

How did it feel for you driving home?
My car’s engine sounds like rattling bones.
How did it feel alone in your room?
My walls feel like a bloody womb.

She can shake her hips like an empty maraca
She can move her lips like a fucking snake.
But Your face, your race, the way that you talk.
I kiss you you’re beautiful I want you to walk.

Her entire body was shaking like an empty maraca.
And her death knell sounds just like rattling bones.
Her entire body was shaking like an empty maraca.
And her sex spell sounds like a fucked up tone.

I think she tried to open her mouth to sing
And vomited one thousand broken wings
She’s a drug addled lie. She’s a one night fling.
And her entire body shakes like an airplane exploding.

This scene seems like a dying machine.
I’m a drop of water in a sea of bad dreams.
A stillborn melody was caught in my throat
I heard a miscarried song on the stereo

This scene seems like a dying machine.
Every single dream I’ve ever had in my life
Never felt as bad as what happened last night
Never felt as bad as -----

That faceless name
I quite sleeping again
This is the last tone in the snapping of wings
Here’s a singer who’s forgotten how to sing

I’ve been lying to you
And I’m counting on you for truth

This scene seems like a dying machine.
I’m a drop of water in a sea of bad dreams.
There’s a misplaced harmony caught in my throat
There’s an aborted song on the stereo

This scene seems like a dying machine.
Every single dream I’ve ever had in my life
Never felt as good as the rolling green
On the edge of fertile territory