1. |
The Same Coin
05:29
|
|||
I.
What if when we meet again
our eyes are so hollowed out
that we only see our own loneliness
reflected like phantoms creeping in shadows
We invented new ways to kill the pain until
we invented new pains to kill
We talk in circles
within vicious cycles
A blanket of eyes covers me —
hell is other people
II.
This is definitely not
what I envisioned
But I’ll take it as an intermission
Consider this:
isolation as a chrysalis,
not imprisonment
Sadness is a gateway drug to happiness
I’m still standing here confused like who’s path is this?
It’s immaculate
But I’ve got a back pack filled with
Inspirational quotes to keep me afloat
Because “the best way out
is always through”
I’ll meet you on the other side
|
||||
2. |
Life During Quarantine
02:39
|
|||
I just wanna drive far away
and have my own summer
Cuz this one is a bummer- one after another
But I’ve been using this time to decluter
Because I was feeling smothered
I’ve been throwing pieces of my past in the trash
Now I look back and laugh at who I thought I’d be when I got older
Well, I got older
and I got bitter
Shit, I need to do better
I don’t know if it’s the depression talking
But I’ve taken a few missteps in the wrong direction walking
I’m trippin’
There’s too much cynicism in my lyricism, its giving me a fucking brain aneurysm
It’s funny how the misery
keeps inviting me to the pity party
But I’m busy - I’ve got plans
To self destruct the construct constructed
In my head that I’m better off dead
New year, same me
But I’ve got some work to do
Can I borrow a shovel
To burrow out this tunnel
I need to sort through this dream stack
And fill my back pack and back track
To the fork in the road
Where I sold my soul, stepped into the cold, big nothing
Life during quarantine - this ain’t no party
It’s like living in oblivion, oblivious to this
Hit or miss subconsciousness
Microphone check one-two, what is this?
Motion sickness from going through the motions, motionless
My brain is broken from drowning in the ocean of notions, I need to focus
As another chapter closes
I'll take a bow in roses
|
||||
3. |
Henry Bemis
03:12
|
|||
Maybe I should listen to my own advice instead of
standing on the shoulder of a sleeping giant
but some days I feel like a phoenix rising
colliding with a gasoline halo tornado
waiting to explode, no slo-mo
fuck, I'm stuck in a bi-polar plunge
spinning black blaze of glory
caught somewhere between the pages of this story
a memento mori purgatory
but that ol' song and dance has got me feeling winded
wishin' it was simple
jump ship, its sink or swim shit
head for any port for direction
make a decision -
give up the ghost, get a new life and live it
Cross the rubicon, keep calm and carry on
trust fall crestfallen, landslide into a landfill
this is my life still - same as it ever was
watching the days go by like clouds in the sky
Like I'm still looking for a way out, an escape route
I need a strategy to better me, to break free of
apathy's chains holding me back in daydreams
life becomes stereo surround sound
remixed and remastered in piss and vinegar
I'm still here, motherfucker - I never left
I just buried myself alive
but not because I wanted to die
I just needed a place to grow
and to rediscover my own skin
that I was stretching too thin
over bones that rustle like paper in the wind
and I was dizzy from the spin
when my reflection started battles
I couldn't win
my given options - give up/give in
and move on again
I'm tired
I traded my confessionals for subtext
so find me between the lines perfecting rhymes
perplexed and vexed - what's next?
it's a heat seeking missile
but i've gotten cold
should've known all that glitter was fool's gold
but miss me with that
misery loves company
frustrated incorporated profit sharing
I've gone soul searching for asylum
marching in like a lion
trying to enjoy the silence
but no man is an island
so I guess it's back to square one
I'll keep beating the drum
like a dead horse in the sun
Pleased to meet you
I'm Henry Bemis
pissing in the wind
|
||||
4. |
Lost in Translation
02:45
|
|||
I know I need to clear my head and repaint the interior
when I start to feel inferior
But that self hatred closes in on me
like an iron maiden
And all I can do is bang my head
Knives out, blades in
The daze fades in
As depression (w)raps around introspective poems that get dissected by friendly detectives
I’ll misdirect the sentiment, send compliments down
a road to hell paved with good intentions
I’m so lost in translation
My copacetic coping mechanisms have weaponized with cynicism
They’re holding me hostage and I’m exhausted
But I’m not as sad as you think i am
I just keep shooting myself in the foot
like I want to assasinate my own character
I’m just running in circles, creating barriers
my chemically imbalanced romance
is really just a slow dance of damage
but I’m actually okay, trust me
Love life like you only got one life, right?
sometimes the computer keys sink into me like teeth
and reach beneath the surface until I bleed poetry
I miss the days I wasn't so self aware
self conscious of the audience
that appreciate the honesty of human tragedy
under pressure, building friction
let it burst and bloom until it lacks definition
I keep going off the rails on a
crazy train of thought process
off topic but I can't stop it
it whispers in my ear
"what'cha gonna do, when this mania runs wild on you?"
|
||||
5. |
Body Horror
03:49
|
|||
I don’t need to retrace my steps to know I’ve made progress
so why do I constantly second guess myself
I guess it’s second nature now
I need to break free from this dysphoria
Dysmorphia sets in like rigor mortis
I’m stuck staring at my reflection
A constant collection of flaws arranged for deception — dissected
As I go
back, back and forth, forth
Back, back and forth
Like a magic bullet in a gravel pit
Ricochet away until the shrapnel hits
I used to tell myself
Stop trying to fit in with the misfits
And just exist
Now it’s the same difference
I keep looking over my shoulder
Sara Goldfarb’s red dress rests on the edge of the bedside and sanity
My body is a temple of doom
With trap doors leading to rooms
Full of demons staring at me
Gnawing and pawing at my defeat
Until they get their claws in me
A pound of flesh
For a pound of flesh
I sacrifice my mental health
If no one can love me until I love myself
I’ll die alone full of regrets
I mean...
Someday, I’ll be good enough for myself
And then we can discuss the rest
I’m stuck staring at my reflection
A constant collection of flaws arranged for deception — dissected
My skin is a road map —
massive, torn and jagged
A body bag of big bones rattling ragged
With too much padding added
That I’m working on subtracting
Self reflection feels like
self destruction
With every abstract attack
Becoming more distorted until that
Mirror image feels so foreign
I buzz like Brundle
Who will the stop the monster
that I’ve become?
|
||||
6. |
Uncomfortably Numb
02:48
|
|||
Some days I wake up and think about
how some day I won't wake up
but I try not to let those thoughts take up
too much space in my headspace
it's just another manic Monday
wishin' it was Friday I'm in love again
I wish I'd stayed asleep today
I wish this day would end
Slow motion - my soul feels broken
my heart feels heavy and
my thoughts feel swollen
as time keep pn melting and melding
I'm sitting, collecting dust on a shelf
I'm still holding my breath
the cold air, it flows in, I'm frozen
stored in a morgue of memories
I hoard when getting depressed
as the shadows creep closer
I blur the curve
and swerve into the gossamer
I felt the phantom limbs cradle me
comforting the lonely - if only to show me
despite it's constant repeating
this empty feeling is fleeting
my heart keeps beating - keep breathing
but why am I so dread inside?
...and so uncomfortably numb?
We're living corpses
from the moment we arrive
Death whispers
“No one gets out alive”
Enjoy the ride
We’re all just
Roses plucked, cut, soaked in a vase
Slowly dying on display
Now I’m selling tickets to my existential crisis
I’m not a poet, not a rapper
Fuck, I don’t even exist
|
Ghost Machines Kenosha, Wisconsin
Ghost Machines is an alternative hip hop group from Kenosha, Wisconsin. Their music blends many genres including trip hop and jazz with subtle goth and classical overtones.
Streaming and Download help
If you like Ghost Machines, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp