pockethands

by pockethands

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02:22

about

recorded, mixed and mastered by micah brown in january, 2014.
birdlawrecords.bandcamp.com

tapes available through email, pockethands709@gmail.com

credits

released February 9, 2014

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all rights reserved

about

pockethands St John's, Newfoundland and Labrador

kieran, derek, walt, glen.
mount pearl.

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Track Name: cool guys, forever!
woke up this morning to coffee grinds, a plate of toast and some orange rinds. swallowed it down, checked the time. everything was the same (again). holding out for a hand to reach down and pull me up again. waiting out for a friend to show me who i am.
Track Name: who i am
diving into this bottle again, i cant get out i cant get in. makes me sick to think that every night i get high and put everything aside. when i stop to think of who i really am, all i see in the mirror is procrastination. when i stop to think of who i really am, all i really think is that i dont give a damn.
i skateboard past where i used to live, it looks the same; i know its changed. it probably sucks that we've up and left, but what do i know anyway.
Track Name: bookman
eighty eight ways i could say it but only one that i would choose. "i dont think i could ever walk a mile in your shoes". so i wake up every morning, pull each leg in through your jeans. step outside and walk around the streets we used to beat.
i dont know exactly where you go when you die, i just know you're not alone. with every step the weight reminds me you're not home. i dont know exactly where you go.
eventually the needle starts to skip, take a breath and reflect over the things that you miss. dont let each day pass by with the passing of the pipe. dont forget to flip the record before you go to sleep at night.
i dont know exactly where you go, when your heart burns out and the world moves so damn slow. dont forget, who you are is what you know. i dont know exactly where i'll go.
Track Name: bike ride
its a nice day for a bike ride cause i got time to slow my head and think "what will i be making or breaking before i hit next week". cause thats the problem, i keep throwing out old memories in favor of new ones. my smoke-filled brain is bursting at the seams.
whats the point in looking forward just to stare at someones back? theres no right direction each step further from the path. i cant lie and say i've never felt so lost. (i cant wait for this to end and start all over again)
keep one ear to the ground cause this pavement will keep you down. the sidewalk on the street crumble: sweet concrete. the only thing that stays the same is the shame found in the game of waking up and strapping shoes on your feet.
(i cant wait to finally go, pack my shit and hit the road)

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whose to say theres not a middle ground to tread, between toeing the party line and having one foot in the grave. i dont think that i'll commit, i don't think i have the time, thats another fucking lie i tell myself before i close my eyes. each and every night i see this place get further in the rearview of a car.
i held on to every single word, amended rules i'd broken that i'd never heard. stayed up and drank it black and drank it cold. holding to hope, and clinging to a rope.
Track Name: wages
find myself spending one whole week digging a hole in my pocket. it seems lately my last few bucks slip down, around and out of bounds. i dont have a bill to break, no coin to waste and no spare change. try not to mind but the world reminds me every day.
so i stumble down this road again, im wasting time. hands dig deeper in my pockets, rubbing nickles over dimes. looking for a better hell but i can't pay the fine to get myself in through the fucking gates.
oh no not this shit again, how much cleared and how much spent on stupid shit and now i waste away the rest my day. im sick of each dollars constraint, cause being broke is hard to change. if that makes me fucking lazy well then thats ok.