I’m uncomfortably aware of myself, and my failures.
I’ve had my fair share of staring into mirrors.
Uncomfortably aware of the way I move myself.
It’s a posture that wears you down.
Here’s me; or a silhouette, it’s hard to see.
I’m a canvas, I’m the paint, but the source is faint.
Can’t face the way I’m drawn, the way I’m placed.
Hung up without grace, left to dry.
So drag me through my mud, I’ll coat it with blood.
And fear.
To be (a bit) tenaciously sincere;
unwaveringly “me”.
“Unashamed, unfazed, still in the race.”
Hey poster boy, is that honestly your true face?
I’ll take some comfort, in knowing that it’s all a play.
So play it well.
And show,
don’t tell.
supported by 14 fans who also own “Uncomfortably Aware”
This one also took me a while to get into. It strikes me as less HC than Untitled and less poppy than Ultrapop (stupid I know). Let's call this the No Wave record. Its musical (and amusical) density is matching the persistent sound in my head right now. barnaby nygren
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