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Dark Cloud Past

by Us and Us Only

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02:53
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credits

released 29 November 2012
Written by Kinsey Matthews, Sean Mercer, Jacob Foster & Mike Suica
Trumpet on "Dark House" and "Through Chimes" by Shane Conard of Playtime Revenue
Recorded at Mobtown Studios, Baltimore, MD
Engineered/mixed/produced by Sean Mercer
Mastered by Ryan Schwabe at The Maniac Mansion, Philadelphia, PA
Cover picture by Joe Austin, inside photos by Sam Ray and Angelica Alzona
Album design by Mike Suica

tags

tags: pop Baltimore

license

all rights reserved

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Track Name: Margaret Again
Margaret again, paw to my chest.
We sleep through morning.
I leave for California and you're in love.

Margaret again, that halloween, my mask on me.
Just eighteen, one halloween.
No more claws in me what-wondering.

Margaret again, honeylimbs, 'breathing deeply'.
My love belongs to caves in dying light.

Margaret again, that halloween, my mask on me.
Just eighteen. Hello, Pauline.
Margaret again and again and again.

Every night, the same board, those trees.
Every night, the same board, Pauline.
Track Name: Dark House
Dark house.
Long hallway.
And you at the end.

Dark home.
Long highway.
I reach my own end.
I strike back the heart that offends.

One lake,
cascading.
I fall right in.
I welcome my sin in again.

No moon.
No memory.
Poor light.
Why fight?
Track Name: Seed
Plant me like a little seed,
so I can adapt and grow what you may need from me.
You see, my mind runs indefinitely.
I'm still trying to beat back all that death in me.

But the rains are written out for you.
You know it pains me to have to shout it at you.

Pour me into your tea one night.
I'll travel through your body in the poorest light.
The forest for the trees inside
keeps you undiscovered, my favorite place to hide.

One day, I hope to be that glowing body, floating free.
Lanterns hung from every tree.
I'll hang them all till you return to me.
Track Name: You Were A Writer
I don't think I'll find you hanging in our old haunts
My heart did undermine every word that I left out in the cold for you.

Every word is complementary of the morning after.

You used to say that you were a writer.
You used to say you knew me well.
Well, I used to watch you cower by your notebook.
I'd whisper to you, 'give 'em hell.'

Every word is complimentary of the morning after.
It's like that little bird you used to see when you were coming around here.

I just had to get my shit together, too tired of waiting up for you.
You lost that stupid sweater - the one you left over my house.

Every song I sing for you is going to grow me older.
You could've sung along, but you're known to flee the morning after.
Track Name: I Stopped My Breathing
I thought we'd meet in another time and place.
I had good timing and the face.
Oh well, I thought I had it.

I thought we'd meet after I'd grown out my hair,
underwater, over air, between two peaks.

And all the reasons
we never meant to fall in love too soon.
I stopped my breathing.
I left my home for an empty room.

We made out in a bathroom.
We made love when we got home.
Did you know what you were feeling for?
I didn't know what my feelers were for.

And all the reasons
we never meant to fuck to death.
I stopped my breathing.
After all, I could use the rest.
Track Name: Faith Void
I thought I saw you in the back of a darkened car,
but who knows where you are.
There was a time when I thought you could warm my heart,
but damn, that was ages ago.

I thought I caught a glimpse of God in a hospital
(white sheets, soft glow)
and in the spirit of the prayers at the burial,
I let my demons go.

But I never made my peace with it.
My body sits in shapes it's meant to fit.
If God comes crawling, my soul is mine to live or die with.
My heart escapes the most of it.

I put a face to that feeling when I want to die.
And all the years till I admit that you were right
will be the coffin I claw at.
Track Name: Through Chimes
I'm thrown back and forth from you.
I'm torn in between the two.

The wind won't make right of our wrongdoings.
I hear chimes tonight through the trees,
through my morning.

This mess is a lion's den, at best.
Claw at the door and try not to wake the rest.

The wind won't make right of our wrongdoings.
I hear chimes tonight through the trees
and through my mourning.

The wind does bring light to all that I let die,
but I'm overwhelmed with the beauty of life.