Reflections & Replacements

by Waterfall Strainer

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1.
03:05
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04:05
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03:27
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02:59
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02:36
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01:56
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04:34
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04:34
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credits

released December 18, 2015

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Waterfall Strainer New York

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Track Name: Helium Chest
I tongued in between my teeth
as I watched the two lovers become one.
I smiled over my teeth and enjoyed both
their idiosyncrasies.

I fussed in my pocket
with the candy wrapper in between my fingers.
It tasted sweet in my mouth but burned
in my stomach on the way down.

Now I sit and watch the rain
with morning up filling my helium chest.
Why do I have to know where
I’m going with so many
beautiful—beautiful ways to get lost?
Track Name: Ideas
I woke up and the house was being lifted by a hand.
I saw the dark creased fingers from my window.

There's nothing that memorable from the time we fell asleep
and I drove home in a panic thinking about how . . .

You would always be the one to tell me
when it was time I had to leave,
and I never had anywhere good to be.
So I fell in love with ideas of who you could make me into.

The growling of the bed sheets roared under your thighs
Light blinked for me but only when I dreamt I lost my mind.

Winter ghost haunted my paranoid thoughts
on nights that changed the way we spoke to each other.

That was the last I heard of what you thought about me,
and it was the last time that I ever thought of you—
the way we were so poisonous to each other.
So I fell out of love with ideas of who you made me into.
Track Name: Nothing Like How
I may be nothing like how
the way that I used to be now.
and you may be nothing like how
the way that you used to be now.

There were songs in my bones
when we used to make love
but they sounded nothing like this.

I may be nothing like how
who you thought I was
and you may be nothing like how
who I thought you were.

There were songs in my bones
when we used to make love
but they sounded nothing like this.
Track Name: Savior
She’s no savior
even though she looked like one
when we were both eighteen.
Now I am bashfully sleeping and dreaming up
—but I am not her man.

The space under my nails holds dirt.
Albeit, my hands stay idle and mad.

From now on everyone else will
just be me trying to recreate her.
I am still just a camera with a lens that
gets wiped clean.

The space under my nails holds dirt.
Albeit, my hands stay idle and mad.

There were Winters when
I did things for myself,
only to impress her
—working into late hours,
going home to hot showers
—sipping on my thoughts of spring,
and what there would be for us to do.
Track Name: Dog Pt. II
She sat down to speak with me—
through her coffee mug—
and I said how I have been guilty;
of mythologizing your love,
of letting it slip from me,
of neglecting my mind and body.

She says time
is like a bear
without a fish,
it’s hungry—
and it's not
to be feared,
it should be forgotten.

I'm her dog and she's shoving
my nose in all of my mistakes.
Track Name: Pixels
Blowing smoke into dresser draws.
Piercing the air with cologne,
it's dark and you're stoned alone.

There's nothing worth seeing.
The TV turns your face blue.
Tomorrow there's nothing to do.

She's so Pantone pretty,
with her mouth open slightly,
she pretends to look at me
but she's only pixels.
Track Name: Sand
She said she has found the song
that she wants to die to.
So she listens to it all the time.
It's the only thing that seems
to calm her down.

It’s often becomes the soundtrack
to when she asks God about
natural disasters,
but tonight she just lies
down wistfully.

She’s a figure 8,
in a desert landscape,
as the sand moves into the
lower half of the hourglass.
Track Name: Around
He says "Kid you gotta be mean
if you ever wanna be free
and finally stop dreaming
catastrophically."
So I took his advice,
and I got mean.
I tried to explain why,
but pulsated it 'round about,
and slurred syllables were all
you could make out.

That's when I saw
everyone I've ever known
turn to stone—
except for you
for the moment
when I tasted you.

But you could have been someone
else at any other time,
and I was who you made me into.
But I swear I could bury the good times in the ground
If I could try to forget them and hope someday they'll be
around.
Track Name: Sameness
I’m still doing the same things.
Still wearing the same shirts,
and I don’t wanna change.
But I’ve changed in every way.
Don’t have the same friends.
Don’t worry about the future.
Don’t stop until I’m done . . .

Getting lost inside of my own head,
Feeling around in the dark.

I’m still playing the same songs,
hung up on the same girl,
and I don’t wanna change.
But I’ve changed in every way.
Discomfort like a car salesmen.
And I feel to embarrassed to . . .

Tell
the people that I miss,
that I miss them.

So I’m getting lost inside my own head.
Feeling around in the dark.
Fetching myself a glass of morning
juice and strangling the carton into my cup.

The truth is I want to be rock and roll
but I don’t have the energy.
Nor am I like my father
or my father’s father.
I’m just tired.

Tired of . . .

Getting lost inside my own head.
Feeling around in the dark,
for the girl I can't stop singing about,
and the friends that may or may not miss me.
So I pouring out my glass of precious memories
and I'm trying to start new.
Track Name: White Streets
New years day was when I rushed to open the car door,
and puke onto the New Jersey grass.
Last year we spent the night at your parents house,
where we watched movies alone,
sprawled out on the couch.

Not I'm back in this college town where I wake up
to white streets from my window
and sirens pulling me out of my dreams.

November fifth was when I rushed to open the car door,
after almost arriving at the wrong house.
I miss the times when you would get so mad at me
sitting in the passenger seat.
You kept silent.

Not I'm back in this college town where I swear
I will be sick 'til spring,
with sirens pulling me out of my dreams.
Track Name: Mosquito Killer
You say you hate killing bugs,
but I've seen you slap
a mosquito on your thy.
His guts infused
with your gold summer
skin, and you just hate to see
things go and die.

I watched you taking care
of the old, and
saying goodbye to a close friend,
but you haven't changed your
expression because it will be alright again.

You don't give a shit about politics,
but with the things that mean something to you
you get so viciously passionate—
always pause to bite your bottom lip,
and when you talk you kind of spit.
Always trying to be more reckless,
while claiming to be boring.
So you drink until lively,
or until rooms (and friends) are spinning.