We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Apertures

by Lower Forty-Eight

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $5 USD  or more

     

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Limited stock

    Includes unlimited streaming of Apertures via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    Purchasable with gift card

      $5 USD or more 

     

1.
It's bad enough but better this than endless sorrow. I don't know what it is we're in contact for. You sailed on, and lost your way, come on back. Let us solve this sordid state. Excuses only foster hate and hate proves hollow. It's bad enough the closing door is closing further. I don't know what it is we keep running for. I failed us, lost my way, can't go back. Let us solve this horrid fate. Excuses make us wait and I wait for nothing. And now we walk in different ways. You with your completed gaze and I with nothing fall.
2.
Blaue Augen 06:34
Christ you're honest bringing on us a weight from towers crushed beyond us. Dragging weakness into promise while flickered light still contained in darkness. Many worthy adversaries stifle growth and tributaries that lead from sources across our borders. Without asking commence attacking. chorus: Your life your cries blaue augen compromise. This gap is wide can hear forever's sigh. Resign collide a future thrown aside. With eyes divide our senses pulverized. Ask your secrets: what's the frequence(y) that hides your face behind your meekness. Bones and flesh are multiplying but you and i are still deciding. Don't let symbols divide your regions into quadrants of social legions. Just prepare while I'm receding. Receding from a life of needing. (chorus) Secrets we share are nothing compared to a life of pain that persists. Behind a thin white veil of death we cower and wait for endless rest.
3.
Like the warmth before it rains, we're tipped off that things can't remain. I am diluted by drink and pain but I have concluded it's no worse than shame. Like the sound of a mountain your voice comes creeping through my bones. I am distorted. Square waved and tall. As the amplitude rises the confidence falls. Like the breath from a whisper eagerly we await each word. I am confronted by my mistakes. What once was for granted cannot be attained. Like two hearts that once beat as one. With remembrance we carry on as drones. I am conflicted. These wounds never lie. Shattered by events which came flashing by. We're like lights in the distance, crestfallen and made just to fade.
4.
Afterlie 02:11
And I bet you set them straight with your piety and your guilt. There's nothing more to say when what's been said isn't real. And I just can't relax. Your poetry it sickens me. So let's just stop and think. If this was for real then there'd be some sort of sign from god. No god. Ruined and accursed by fear. Straining to fight through a fog of tears. Endless misery keeps us in this tragedy, alone, scared and weak. Isolation spins a thread of death that cannot be crossed. You'll never get too close, you are stranded, scarred, alone, burning our home, atone.
5.
Come back, come back... I just want to crush you. Your photographs become razor blades I clutch them tight as I lie awake. Dreaming dreams of youthful things, wishing that I could just be. Come back, come back... I don't want to leave you. Come back, come back... I just want to smash you. There are no words for what you've done, just blank eyes staring at a loaded gun. Remember the truth it was always near, even when you lied with a smile and a tear. Come back, come back... I don't want to love you. I don't want to see you. i don't want to feel you. I don't want to love you. I just want to kill you.
6.
The consequence of scrawling dreams on broken shards of pottery and burying them in the sand to be found, felt, believed. We sold our souls but never gained control of anything we held hope for. Cut off these hands in spite, reliving a past life, stigmatic array of light, giving rise to seventh sight. You were right. You're always right. Where I say is where I fall, where I lie is where I crawl, gladly. Your servant your replicant. I can see you're out for gold. But only rust met you after all. Seventh sight served its role.
7.
So let's call this what it is: a life spent wandering, humiliated, frustrated. And we'll haul this guilt but these strings. Tied to the nerves of steel, we'll try and we'll fail. Betrayed by guilt. Turned in, turned aside, turned in, turned aside well by right. No remorse. Just a wider berth, why on earth? Why on earth? Well why not? Why'd you believe? To know how good what can never be. Selfless selfishness bloated sweet with hatred varicosed arteries from your soul. Wasted by your reforms. You never could carry. Weighed down by your charms. They never served you. Abolished but still abused because no one can refuse you. Silenced by solace. Never wanted this 'til now. And I know that I've got it. It's still burning in my hands. Burning away truth from fact. With friction.
8.
Slay Tracks 06:55
Your senses are detecting. Come circling as the blood begins to spill. I read your lips, they're glossed with lies, let's reminisce about future lives. Careening towards oblivion. I hang on to attract the skies. Better this than suicide it seems my worth is in decline. And you waited and incensed yourself. Coagulated, the blockage builds itself. I keep falling in your waiting arms. We're so much older but still as strong. And I keep failing to disembark. Just give me a reason and I'll play the part. And I'll end this song. There's nothing left I'm overdrawn. You better set my skull in your sights. Pull the trigger and end this life. The one you couldn't absorb. I followed tracks to the door. So sorrowed, always fleeting. The waiting hand is waiting still. Climb up slowly, breathe the air full of disillusion and a wasted breath. I keep falling in your waiting arms. We're so much older but still as strong. And I keep failing to disembark. Just give me a reason and I'll play the part. And I'll end this song. There's nothing left I'm overdrawn. You better set my skull in your sights. Pull the trigger and end this life. Take one last look at this knife. The one your couldn't divorce. I followed light to the door.
9.
I know you sold us out with sore hands. Blistered from pats on backs and cash trans(actions). Made obsolete since no one kills with, came running back with hands of slow death. chorus: How can I say with this penalty of death you'll get your way. But who's willing to stay? How can I explain when there's nothing left worth singing for? Who's this one for? I claim my independence of thought. My own rogue state is bordered by farce. And I watch and wait for the demolition. When there's nothing left I can go on wishing that you're dead. chorus Blade, not just cuts, these are scars from now on, you're in charge of these arms, sliced apart from the start, we will rot. I saved face by cutting out my... I saved face by cutting out the only other... heart, that's hard and it shows.
10.
The Ring 07:31
No. The ring I gave you is held on by one with a stone. Sorrow. Reciting the words I wrote when I was under your throne. Remember the sky as I chased you down? Slipped through my hands so many times as we cried. Lied to ourselves, promoted the disaster, wasted our youth without regarding the answers. So much for those satellites, reflecting, the aperture of your eye. There was nothing left to spy, it was lies. No. The ring I gave you was meant to go it alone. Borrow. These songs of the past mixed with present drones. Stone walls insulate a black heart of hurt. In the end it was so you could desert.

about

Engineered, mixed and mastered by Justin Weis at Trakworx, SF in 2005
Produced by Lower Forty-Eight with Justin Weis

Grady Mutzel: bass guitar, piano
Phil Becker: drums, gong
Andrew Lund: electric and acoustic guitars, vocals

Originally released on Monotreme Records, UK, July 2005
Re-released on King of Sticks Recording Cooperative Feb 2022

credits

released July 28, 2005

(C)2005 Lower Forty-Eight - Carpal Tunnel Music (BMI)
(P) King of Sticks Recording Cooperative - Catalog #: KOS039

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Lower Forty-Eight San Francisco, California

Phil Becker: drums
Andrew Lund: guitars; vocals
Grady Mutzel: bass (2003-2006)
Ian Swanke: bass (2000-2003)

San Francisco, CA

contact / help

Contact Lower Forty-Eight

Streaming and
Download help

Report this album or account

If you like Lower Forty-Eight, you may also like: