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Silver Plane Crucifix

by Perennial Reel

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christopher cabreja
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christopher cabreja Great song, strong emphasis on lyrics in general for this band. Which I appreciate as I am a poet and a ameteur photographer and videographer. Favorite track: Constellations.
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1.
I guess I should be happy that no one sees the darkness that I always see her eyes above her electric lips and I see him above her so I know she is protected from everyone else but my two twisting heads She’s blessed and I know it and I swear that it exists even if I have to take it and twist it so it fits even when contorted on the floor of the hall it will never stop breathing and repeating, never stall Hear the mania of brass and the silence of heaven that refuses to speak up from the depths of the heroin it must be lonely and empty and dead but it never lived for no one no matter what they said Now I can’t think, I’ll listen to the echos of the organs in the theater, flocks of pigeons swirling halos the air is thick, I pray for a breeze slip into a trance over on third street
2.
The Lights 07:21
Silver plane fly like a crucifix in the sky red lights blink on the edge of the night the big sun drowned by the murmured iron sound and the bright shaking beads all shooting around all the pale alters when the street lights falter  and the houses are dark and I wish that I’d called her smokestacks let the clouds rise above the jets that land over the skyline, my dues, my soul’s debts That old loving friend, illuminated all the loose ends take up her spike now to start to mend build something warm that won’t fall in the storm that wont burn up in daylight, that i’ll never mourn that could hide under dust and shine through the rust and be weathered and battered through life and through lust smoke pours out of her cigarette sweetly she lives on the line that shines down to the peach tree My mind was young when all this begun  I cant say that I’ve felt all the things that I’ve sung the flutter of red when the radio stutters and the air is warm and the air conditioner shudders but now the sun rise with the pink clouds in the sky up near the tree tops ill shed my disguise this peace i feel now released somehow I sit shaking as I break apart and break my vows White lines bleed gold as the evening grows old and she looks at me now with the smile I stole those lines, the traces of planes bound other places send me yellow edged images of beautiful faces the digital clock that howls in the dark grows dimmer and dies as the dogs start to bark this thing alive now, all I ever had in the best way I know it’s driving me mad
3.
The constellations, those shimmering points the flames, mad, licking and crying, they anoint my old dream, my favorite one leaning out my window after the sun I wish saint peter’d do more for me steer my soul, control my heartbeat Constellations She exhales and clouds glow, block out the light it blurs and it's smokey and clouds up her eyes I thought they’d swirl like galaxies but my poetry was wrong, if what I see is right, my love turned smoke and vapor dreamed in heat and planned on paper Constellations The attics of the dusty dull animal kingdom that they put in plastic boxes whenever you’re done with them smell so frayed, like all of those days and I can’t save them, shelter them from the haze of this new life, of these new feelings corrupting my soul as I stare at the ceiling Constellations A day on earth is more than I can take in the summer in the city under suns, no escape from the ambient light and the coughs of the cars all it does is burn together burning, fallen stars thats all we are, disconnected beams shining through these hasty seams Constellations The breathing swells of humid air curl gently round her charcoal hair in the exhaust the weather extracts, when nothing is intact the boiling buildings coming under attack from every ray, from every sun like us all, how this all happens Constellations
4.
Explosions 07:17
Disaster come upon me Disaster in my home Entrancing shadows dance before Empty pianos All these satellites  That glide through my past Reflect rays from other days And other suns that didn’t last Explosions Explosions Explosions Explosions, convulsions At your tattered feeling Explosions between two Send me careening See now my darkness And all in silence I didn’t mean to make This distance so violent Explosions Explosions Explosions Her frame, alight with flames from behind these animals over and over again, all the time This space that grows In my chest, this cavity pale grasping ruin that black empty part of me Explosions Explosions, in the city, in plain sight Explosions, in the city, of all these lights Explosions, in the city, in the radiating night Explosions, in the city, bleeding fists full of fight Explosions, in the city, above my skull, sweet and bright Oh, my city, Oh, my city, console me Oh, my city, Oh, my city, let me see you black and white car alarm siren song glow all beating colors of the city’s neon ghosts of the young and broken flower  hang from fire escapes and signs and rhythms, water towers, aching southern hotels, jersey city, don’t forget your keys for reconciliation, down on my knees I know a place I can’t take you but its not to far over dunes and on highways under that bright north star we’d be back before the cold with the dead leaves swinging but for now the air is warm and all the bells are ringing in my ears, in my chest, from all this distortion putting me to rest like a sonic abortion by the time I’m gonna know just what I’m hearing my body will be gone in a plain pine coffin that the earth has taken back and hidden in her pocket next to the eras and the doll and the bombs in her locket but who needs eternity when we have reason who needs the sickly sweet breezes of the garden of eden It’s only explosions the world has ever known We’re gonna knockdown all our smokestacks and knock us off our throne
5.
It's alright in the vacuum in my swollen head I saw it spin around my lightbulb  till I picked it up and said that there’re some beads upon your breast and there’re some thoughts around your teeth Mother Theresa’s in the corner  and her eyes are full of grief her skin is wax and sand and her hair’s in knotted strands she was born of broken paper  and prayer cards and hands that’ll type up your horoscope, her stars are in the sky and her shoes are not yet filthy  cause she keeps them clean to die Don’t let the good lord into your home he’s gonna knock down all your friends and leave you all alone in your skeleton construction your eyes are gonna glisten as speakers blast static from hissing televisions Jesus christ listens to the radio transmission tower beacons light the way to go and those little blinks you hear they’re sure as hell not real they drive freaks to salvation schizophrenia and feel the skin over bones and the vessels of blood that carry cries to her brain how she stains wilted buds and she flows over banks  onto dark broken streets by the railroad refineries  I hear when i sleep the industries dead there all they got left is some third degree murder and some misdemeanor theft
6.
This everlasting city, it saved my soul arcing cranes, the octane, broken window panes, the rock and roll I leaned on the shutters and breathed in that heat that june july august when it’s too hot to sleep just let the sweat drip, lie in your bed keep that phonograph spinning, keep that needle fed cause when that stops, the clouds break, ripple into rain that beat on her eyelashes that beat on my brain and when that starts up, you can’t just take a pill let the headache overtake you, and in time it will you’ll either die on the sidewalk, your breaths to be ending or live in a promised land with a promise pending when the sun sets down where the sheets are torn and the living rooms deserted, identity is born It really turns me off to listen to the train screaming ninety degrees ready to faint O the black bolts and iron, the skyway’s like a gun rusting and loaded, how these kids run o’er the sea of cryin eyes I see from my window but for when the day dies and the storm clouds billow a broken flow of headlights endlessly cross I’ll stay till she falls and I’ll leave when she’s lost keep etching on asphalt, ideas and creeds place a bullet in their engines and kill all their speed the comet like voices that swirl through my room the spinning tops and bears that fall ripe from the loom and tapes spin too, cassettes playing memories graffiti tattooed on my mind’s cemeteries her eyes burn like two red lights, they are two red lights on the towers that I’ve starred at for all those morning hours before the drunken exodus the birdcall awakens when the silent night’s peace is screamed at and shaken when the dawn bleeds life from the degenerates’ ball and the reverb is alive and hushes over all the tall trees rustle dressed in full summer leaves the chimes from neighbor’s porch sound in the breeze that’s when skin is warm and pressed to the nearest living thing or whatever else’s left
7.
Mother Mary 04:43
Spinning white flashes lets darlings glimpse on burning horizons and hills under painted bricks and light that falls at incredible speeds and pain to break spines and bring down to knees just turn yourself on and move fingers on wooden beads on an infinite circle string on a rosary Each small prayer muttered through holes in black space and tongues twisted and choking how full of grace down railings and stairs  bushes with white flowers sway by bruised purple tulips after sun, after day the garden she sewed with softness and love the blessed rose chrysalis the color of blood All these unfurl  in the shattered cement womb under shadows of high-rises to feel like tomb my soul’s companion breathing can be hard lungs will not heave under death’s black star drifting directions simple bright lines will take you away take gently your time For you, I am all open in nighttime and day from my first crying breath to the stone on my grave from my first steady stair  to my soul’s darkest place Mother mary, bless her feel love’s embrace in years to come she’ll rearrange, good earth and live again here through other birth The veins on her hands and the bruises on her shins I don't regret that I've lived in her tree-trunk eyes And I don't think it's true That I can lift these chains Cause I'll always see pictures of your... Your iodine skin Your iodine skin....
8.
Bruise 02:21
The veins on her hands and bruises on her shins no I don’t regret that I’ve lived in her tree-trunk eyes but you couldn’t say it cause the roots ran deep drawing the traces that fell through your Your iodine skin your iodine skin your iodine skin your iodine skin
9.
Untitled 05:41
O night of glass,  the dawn's gonna shatter the moon is spinning by cicada chatter the song they sing says I want something sweet paint you blue paint you on my sheets just let the train  and the music box and the boy in the picture let yourself rock go off gentle I’m so sorry I’m so simple now I want something sweet these old lights I am possessed why don’t most people get more obsessed with all the lights all around sure I’m a moth sure I am a clown sure all these sounds are all I hear go down the boulevard where things disappear lame poets limp past jaded mirrors my broken eyes go flashing by It brings me down to think of you, when the empire state building is glowing blue and the clouds breaks and the rain rolls and the streets are sinking into grey holes all this warmth all from afar my fingers curl at my stars seems around here I can’t find anything alive to waste my time

credits

released November 29, 2013

RORY BAUERS Drums
EVAN DIBBS Guitar, Banjo, Autoharp, Voice
TIMOTHY ERBACH Bass, Synthesizers, Voice

Additional instrumentation by Dave Crocco (Drums) and Cela Scott (Voice).


Produced by Timothy Erbach and Evan Dibbs
Engineered by Timothy Erbach and Evan Dibbs
Additional Engineering by Rob Harari, Brian Hardin
Mixed by Brian Hardin
Mastered by Bruce Somers, Undercurrent Studios, Los Angeles, CA
Photographs by John Erbach
Album Design by John and Timothy Erbach


Recorded at The Dark Theater Studio in the Jersey City Heights, Speakeasy Studio in Silverlake, Los Angeles, and HarariVille Studio in Hoboken, New Jersey


Our sincere thanks to Dave, Cela, Aaron, and Laura for their divine generosity, to Johnny Bauers for his musical contributions and support in writing this album, to Rob Harari for his sage advice in preparing for and beginning this project, to Brian Hardin for revealing the joy in recording and the best in our music, and to our friends and family for their unending love.

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Perennial Reel Jersey City, New Jersey

Born of long hot neighborhood summers, of windows, of long hot summer nights

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