Limited 12" Record w/ Screen Printed Cover + Insert
Record/Vinyl + Digital Album
It was my delight to take matters into my own hands with the vinyl side of this release.
Pressed by Groovy Dude Records, featuring a monochromatic, screen-printed version of the cover onto canvas done by Saul Garza and myself.
Features stamped inner labels and an insert only available with the vinyl release.
Limited to 50.
Includes unlimited streaming of Getting the Blues
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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Limited Cassette
Cassette + Digital Album
Dubbed and designed by Nyquil Schoenholz.
Limited to 30.
Includes unlimited streaming of Getting the Blues
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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Empty Heaven: Collected Writings 2019-2021
A paperback containing stray writings, both related and unrelated to the record.
Featuring poems based on songs from the record by Spencer LaBute and Ariel Clark.
Collage jacket art created by Tink Castillo.
Formatted by Spencer LaBute.
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lyrics
I.
You haven’t been told to stop since the Millenium Ball dropped
If you’re a man, you look Cabinet-of-Caligari-type crazy, or off-duty cop with Oakleys on the back of your bald head
If you are a woman, you look very upset at your new favorite phenomenon, hair witch wiry and your brand new t-shirt on
One can be assured, there are no trans clansmen of QAnon
You grew up Cold War clammy; I’d imagine that the duck-and-cover collective stressed blessed your present mentality
White as Wonderbread, kept in a cultural bed, a whole tide pool that’s scared of the ocean
See a black human, and you stifle emotions
You might see a Muslim and cause a commotion
Floating levels of threat; you’re conspiratorially-minded, and the irony is, America designed it
9/11 made you red white and blue, then you found Alex Jones 4 years later on YouTube
You voted for Bush on a party line vibe
You didn’t vote in ‘08 due to knucklehead scribes
You’re not traditionally bright, but you get patterns
Algorithms fit your education while the Limbaugh station plays in your ‘01 Saturn
Fragments scatter
II.
Hate on your tongue
You’re a mess, you’re no fun
You think everybody’s got a hand on your wallet
or a plan to install their demands in your gullet
You bark and you bray
at engineers that you say
are the ones who will spray a delirium fog
Make you marry a dog; you are only a cog
in a fucking machine
Now your house isn’t clean
Now you’ve got a big truck with a bumper sticker
Like a power figure in a nuclear winter
Are you being drugged
by the White House thugs?
Are you just going to shut up and take it!
“No one’s home!
No one’s home!
And no, I don’t vote!
I didn’t get any rest,
let my browser attest
I was deep in a hole a blog is digging.”
How deep does it go?
“David Icke says so,
and Copernicus was always fibbing.”
A wellness check gets sent to your door
The police Wanna know what you’re staying in for
Are you good?
Can we go?
So they go
The pariah on the block, will you talk to your family now?
The messiah on the rock, will you talk to your family now?
III.
“Suddenly, doesn’t he look so good on the TV?
Suddenly, suddenly, I believe his voice could cover me
He doesn’t read, doesn’t read; he’s still covered in money
Money tree, cover me, let him do the work til they believe
Suddenly smothering every little punk on debate teams
Suddenly recovering, i don’t like the liberal daydream
Nobody will believe he will do anything
But I believe
Suddenly, it won’t seem so funny”
“He’s kidding! Kidding! Kidding!”
IV.
Four years later, you feel like a fool
You thought you built something; you were only a tool
It was empty, empty
Four years later, you feel like a fool
You thought it was a favor, but they’re calling you cruel
It was empty, empty
Empty is the dream that’s filled to the brim
with “Put her in jail!” and “Unmask him!”
You just press on, you don’t wanna eat crow
Now all of your babies feel left in the snow
Threat was empty, empty
Everybody’s begging you to put the glass down with Kool-Aid in it
You tell them you did it, but you really think they’re keeping a pitcher for themselves
You think you’re drinking from the well of the real world, drinking from the well of the real world
V.
When the spider egg sac breaks
you will find that your enemy lactates
You can drop your reptilian backaches
from bending over backwards,
trying to memorize your attack words
When the other shoe drops
you will feel embarrassed when you call cops
and you will try to hide til it all stops
The thought that you were lied to then forms
So much for the Big Storm
You are uninvited to dinner
now and forever
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