1. |
||||
You came rumbling
Like thunder
Struck by lightning
I wonder
Who's the drum
Who's the beat
When we meet
The hand is a compass
The body a map
We’ll find
Our own way back
Leave me something
Bells ringing
Nothing but sound
Pure stinging
Who's the drum
Who's the beat
When we meet
The hand is a compass
The body a map
We’ll find
Our own way back
|
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2. |
Flower Gunpowder
03:50
|
|||
A strange kind of heat, vanity
to infinity
Flower gun powder
Fruit of sun, yesterday’s undone
Unseen geometry
For every shadow cast a
spot light contrast
The end has met the beginning
At last
Chiaroscuro
Unseen geometry
The waiting eye, proof of dimension
anatomy
Flower gun powder
Fruit of sun
Yesterday’s undone
For every shadow cast a
spot light contrast
The end has met the beginning
at last
Chiaroscuro
Unseen geometry
Flower gun powder
Fruit of sun
Yesterday’s undone
|
||||
3. |
Forms of Knowing
02:42
|
|||
An exit is coming
an opening growing
We remember the
things we'd like to forget
Aujourd hui a moi moi moi
Demain a toi toi toi
We whisper let us go
a numinous rising
hands sweeping up
lost time
We aren't going going anywhere
The things we miss most
are hived like honey
First one asleep
escapes the gravity
Aujourd hui a moi moi moi
Demain a toi toi toi toi
We aren't going going anywhere
We aren't going going anywhere
|
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4. |
Have
03:31
|
|||
Is there, it’s there
a constructive way
to list your limitations
Is there, it’s there
a constructive way
to adjust to the circumstance
Who will break
Is there, it’s there
a constructive way
to relieve this tension
Is there, it’s there
a constructive way
to admit defeat
Who will break
Oh I was careful
Of the how and to whom
I gave myself away to
because
this
is
all I
have
to give
|
||||
5. |
||||
Every hour
Every minute
Every instant
My breath
is a record.
The world doesn’t want these things
Doesn’t need these things
But if they do,
they’re here.
The medium is not the message.
The message is the message.
I am not the beginning.
I am not the end.
I am a link in the la di dah la di dah
Possibility doesn’t stop,
People do.
A dream in the developing room
Imagination is our greatest hope
for survival
Without worry we are free
I am not the beginning.
I am not the end.
I am a link in the la di dah la di dah.
|
||||
6. |
Outer World
02:48
|
|||
I love the music!
What it is
To be
Colorful vibrations
Who am I?
Who I am.
I love the music.
Who does the music love?
If I am nowhere
(Outer World)
I have anywhere to to go
(Outer World)
I love the music.
Who does the music love?
I love the music
What it is
To be
Colorful vibrations
Who am I?
Who I am.
I love the music
Who does the music love
(Outer world)
|
||||
7. |
Loteria
03:16
|
|||
Naked
The truth his truth her truth
The mouth is a museum
holding our heated words
There is no history of luck
(Loteria)
Resting
His tongue invites device
Brave man has a good blade
he gets carried away
We lay them on the table
the cups, the coins, the swords, the wands
but the fool is the one who puts faith in the universe
Whose hand is on the wheel
(Loteria)
There is no history of luck
Whose hand on the wheel
(Loteria)
|
Outer World Richmond, Virginia
Retro-future, crate digger delights, French freakbeats, psychedelic garage-pop, Bond spy themes, space-age post-punk, '80s NYC disco punk, and sensual subtexts.
Booking: outerworldsound@gmail.com
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