Anywhere But Here

by The Shots of Perspective

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about

Drums and bass recorded at the West Building by Jamey Bozeman, December 2004. Everything else recorded and mixed (badly) by Michial Farmer at Stagflation, Omaha, Neb.

Michial Farmer: Vocals, Acoustic and Electric Guitars, Mandolin, Keyboards
Garth Rivers: Co-Lead Vocals on "Ruthless" and "It'll Be Over Soon," Electric Guitars
Max Fuqua: Bass
Josh Altmanshofer: Drums, Percussion

credits

released December 15, 2007

All songs written by Altmanshofer/Farmer/Fuqua/Rivers except where noted.

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The Free Soil Party Minneapolis, Minnesota

The Free Soil Party was a short-lived political party in the United States active in the 1848 and 1852 presidential elections, and in some state elections. Its main purpose was opposing the expansion of slavery into the western territories, arguing that free men on free soil comprised a morally and economically superior system to slavery. ... more

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Track Name: Satellites, Post-Incident
Read all you want. It's just cold comfort here.
You're always mauled by the beast you hold most dear.
"Life is very long . . ."
I could watch the satellites and act like nothing's wrong.

The first new day's the worst. Just get up and walk away.
Struggle for the words you never thought you'd have to say.
Wipe the make-up off your face.
I could watch the satellites out in outer space.

And every time you think you've given all your blood,
You'll find that He demands some more.
And they say that time heals everything, but some wounds never heal--
Or at least you're never sure.

Put that map back on the wall.
We'll pin out every city 'til we've lost them all
And we're anywhere but here.
I could watch the satellites blink out and disappear.
Track Name: I Hear a Symphony
I've decided the world has had enough of irony,
So I'm making it my mission to rewrite "I Hear a Symphony."
That's my self-consciousness. I've never held it back.
My metafiction commentary's on each and every track.

But I never mean to break my promises.
It just turns out that way,
Like when I'll try to bleed it honestly
And it'll come out in cliché.
I've listened to your records.
I've tried to absorb every lyric, every note.
But it gets lost in creation,
And the song gets stuck in my throat.

I'm grasping at a metaphor three miles outside of town.
"I know they water down the gas," I'll write--and then the chorus comes around.
But Lisa will ask about the imagery, and hell, I have no idea.
I'll tell her I'm the voice of God and the meaning's never clear.

'Cos you learn to scream it through a bullhorn
To remove all room for doubt.
Construct an airtight master narrative
And hope the world don't find you out.
I've memorized your records.
I filled notebooks up with everything you wrote.
But it gets lost in creation,
And the song gets stuck in my throat.

I saw "I Sing the Body Electric," and the quaintness made me cry.
Serling fabricated memories and implanted them in my life.
I'm gonna rip the text apart in search of something real.
All that matters is what might move me and how that makes me feel.

'Cos you're living in a world of voices.
Why should you hear mine?
I try to bury it under distortion
So the flaws are harder to find.
I've plagiarized your records.
Rewritten every lyric, every note.
But it gets lost in creation,
And the song gets stuck in my throat.
Track Name: Automatic (Iconoclast Version)
And you're the one who never
Gets what she wants.
You never get what you want, and
I'm the one who's always
Tripping around here.
"We always stumble in here . . ."

And it's automatic,
And you'll never know the truth.
The truth is unattainable to you.

And when we wake up tomorrow,
We'll be wearing the same clothes,
But nothing ever happens, does it?
And we got blood on a wire.
We get blood on everything.
We've still got some bleeding left to do.

Kid, I would stoop down and kiss your feet,
Lie down in the street in the snow,
But someone stopped the big clock
Just when I was hanging out
The 37th floor.

Another gin and tonic.
Another highball-glass solution
Just to numb it all.
And you'll come down that spiral.
You'll come answer every call
'Til one day I stop making them.
Track Name: Ruthless
I've been drinking Pine Sol
'Cos it tastes like Orange Crush.
She's Tanqueray and Drano--
Less than smooth, but it'll do, I guess.

We're locked in the boiler room.
My head is climbing walls.
She says that's nothing she can help,
But then my faults are all still pinned on me.

I've been mailing postcards
To the victims of my love,
But I didn't know they took stamps,
So they're in so D.L. room in Omaha.

It took six months to change her mind.
In five days, she changed it back.
She said, "Kid, you're just not worth it.
Accept my condolences and our home game."

And I'll call you when the whole world falls in love with me.
And when I start to fall,
You'll be the last one on my mind
Before I black out.
Flavor of the month--
I'm gone.

The airport bar is more corporate
Than I had imagined.
I speak in quiet tones and stare past
My seven-dollar Beefeater at the floor.

I think Chicago saved my life,
But I couldn't tell you why
I left her there in Oglivie.
Now all I've got is my flight delay to survive.
Track Name: Hello Omaha
Sunday night I saw it,
Like a cornfield borealis,
Driving I-80 East from your front seat.
Your heart is like a hurricane.
You're storming through my port again,
And I can only take my shelter where I see it.

So hello Omaha.

I got your 2 a.m. Central call.
I was giddy as a five-year-old.
You said that that was normal, and in fact so were you.
And the glory was there lingering
The next day when you stumbled in,
Transcendent, half an hour late, to my bedroom.

So you keep one hand on the cradle,
And I'll keep one foot in the grave,
And one day we'll be just devoured by
All that stuff we tried so hard to save.

For a few days there, I think I would have
Lived forever in my hotel room,
Head boarded in, the world locked out
Except for you.
But I don't believe in summer flings.
I don't believe in anything.
So much as I believe in the things I swore weren't true.

Goodnight.
Track Name: I Don't Know What to Think
Atlanta's dipped in bronze tonight.
It covers almost everything,
And you're the subway lights
That guide the city home.
And when we both emerge from underground,
I'll see you here again.
You'll be wearing moonlight
Like it's solid gold.

I've memorized your phonemes.
I'm declaring victory.
Declaration doesn't mean a thing.
Well, in that case, I don't know what to think.

Let's sing about the skyline,
Every morpheme architecture throws,
The post-card views,
The histories that turn to light.
'Cos I got all these brochures on the Piedmont.
They say they buried diamonds in this asphalt
Every couple feet.

Here's a countermelody.
Your metafiction's grating me.
A little off but basically the same.
And your metaphors, I don't know what to think.

Guitar solo.

And if it's the summer all our heroes fall,
We'll cling to something that can't be broken,
Can't be bent,
Could never let us down.

We'll bum around the lobby
Of the Marriott or Regency.
God knows there's no elevator key.
Here's to the future, but I don't know what to think.

Here's another melody.
Kid, you're nothing like me.
The rhythm's off, but it's basically the same.
It's confusing me, and I don't know what to think.
Track Name: Cigarettes and Diet Soda
All my teeth are going yellow,
But my friends say it's okay,
So I'll abide, the nicotine
And Aspartame to have their way.
Tonight my mouth tastes like the filter
Styrofoam, aluminum.
It's three A.M. and I'm just stalling
'Til the shift break comes.

And if it's nothing to you anyway,
It's nothing to me anyway.
It's nothing that I need.
No, what I need . . .

We got trucks out on the concrete,
Illiterate or in denial,
And the whole world knows why they came here.
They've been seeing it for miles.
And God knows I've seen station wagons,
Aerostars, and in-betweens,
But they're dancing for the truckers,
And I guess so are we.

So I drank half a pint of motor oil
Just to make it through today.
It's synthetic sleeps and wake-ups
Just to break Cicadia's sway.
Tonight my mouth tastes like December
And January's burning lungs,
And if the Golds speed my reactions,
The Blacks just leave me numb.

And if it's nothing to you anyway
It's nothing to me anyway
It's nothing that I need
No, what I need is cigarettes and diet soda.

Between this and Tanqueray,
I'll have all my vices on display.
Track Name: Success Lives Here
I keep climbing the watertower,
Carrying buckets of paint,
Enough to erase everything
I ever wrote on it.

I know . . . you said you believe in me
When everything internal doubts,
But your eyes are bloodshot and raccoon-rimmed.
I've been trying to figure that out.

I could spend my light anywhere but here.
Put out both my eyes, be the Hazel Motes of the year.
But I keep thinking, "What would Milton think?"
And Thurber nails me to my seat.

Now all I read are biographies
Of great men by might-have-beens.
They commit their idols to print,
Then seal their own failures in.

Now Mary says I reveal too much,
That I'm bleeding on everyone,
But if she only knew what I'm holding back,
I think that she might hold her tongue.

So yes.
I saw what you wrote on the skyline,
The billboards, the buses and cars:
"Success lives here."
But my counselor told me,
"Boy, no matter where you go
You'll find that that's where you are."
So it's not enough.

She keeps drinking water.
I keep drinking Tanqueray.
And if we shared a liver,
Everything would be okay.

Now I've been donating plasma
The last seven months or so,
But the patients got sick of my DNA,
And the bank asked me kindly to go.
Track Name: I Am Bound to Her
I am bound to her
Like a brick on a leash,
A perversion of life,
An overtold dirty joke
That nobody's laughing at
Anywhere
Anymore.

I'm always holding on.

I am bound to her
Like rusted-out anchors to barnacled hulls
Of ghost ships in saline
All dead in the water
And languishing in Marianna.
They say we're the deepest.
Notoriety isn't worth much without air.
Baby, we're nowhere

And no good to anyone,
Not in this state.
I am no good to anyone,
Not in this state.

I am bound to her,
And my friends say they're sorry,
And then they move on.
And I know this sounds petty and vain.
I'm complaining.
But I just can't move by this.
I just can't get by her,
No matter how many times . . .
No matter how many times,
No matter how hard I try.

You are never getting over this one
Track Name: It'll Be Over Soon
It'll be over soon.
It'll be over soon.
I'll be okay as long as I keep on repeating that.
It'll be over soon.

Did you ever have one of those days where you just want to crack?
Wanna lose yourself?
Run away, run away.
Disappear from here and see if they care.
I swear.

One of these days you're gonna look back and laugh or cry,
If you even care at all.

I'm having one of those days.