Descriptions. Revelations. Adventures.

by Earthbook

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01:48
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03:17

about

An imperfect album for an imperfect world. Mixed through my old four track and recorded in my parent's basement. Live guitar and vocal backbone with added backups and bass, minimal post manipulation, no effects or filters.

credits

released October 3, 2012

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about

Earthbook Toledo, Ohio

Earthbook is an expression of years spent journaling, traveling, describing, inspecting, & dissecting life on Earth. Combining non-traditional song patterns with the pursuit of artistic & purposeful lyric & poetry writing, Earthbook provides the opportunity to offer personal illustrations of my experiences on Earth; a planet which is encountered incomprehensibly different by each of us. ... more

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Track Name: Olive
The sun connects once past tinted glass. Rising over the black plastic edge moving on the black metal track. I lean my head back, tear up, feel warmth, watch my hands life sent from my brain. We're living on the fast track and forget that our senses are intact and take for granted every movement, touch, thought, each task completed if it's simple or not, each sight we see every word we speak, everything we learn; comprehend, that our feet press forward as red hair is pulled out of her face. Fixed on her tall thin frame are her freckles and a brain stuck on one. Her tall, thin frame has a name.
Track Name: Goggle Burn
I've got a leather face, passive blood. My hardened flesh has left me comatose, yet is so close to falling off my face and revealing my bones, yellow tinted tilted teeth; creaking crooked ivory shards. Blisters drip from crispy skin. Lotion soaked, shell shocked throat and cheek and nose and lips have oil and aloe coats built up, scraped, then caked on in layers. Chipping colors turtle shell.
Track Name: Inpatient
Arms open to the blue: Focus; you may find out. Mind centered on blank pages, empty maps. And I was marching into the sky. Tonight I am back in my timeline after hospitalization in the west. Climbing through degrees dropping, wind picking up. Yet half my face is scorched from the approaching sun and I hiked to understand life, but I learned nothing; enjoyed my time being hospitalized in the west. Mind fresh while hospitalized in the west.
Track Name: At the YMCA
Calming fluids leave my hands pink, nails flush, palms tomato red. Slow, stagnant, sitting, cinnamon sniffing, yet fresh with repeating bubbles forming, floating, forming. Veins wrapped in blankets, my cells swell with warmth. Cucumber eyes. Thick heated breath.
Track Name: Eastern
Suitcases pressed and clamped. Lights out, stomach gripped. Senses tight, late night, detour streets, endless country. Whispering through cracked glass, through Mother's hair, through my nostrils and out my ears. Boarding pass, chewing gum, water cups, three chair rows. Silence grows, eyes drift closed, lips stretch out to greet my lobes.
Track Name: Pathogen
I've got the devil in my blood, crawling like snakes through spider veins. I've got worms popping out my skin like apples; red and tough outside, but brown and moist within.

There's a war waged on my soul by a battle ax and the sword of gold. Flesh stripped from my skeleton; let's step back and survey the damage.

I've got the devil in my blood. He's left his boot tracks in my veins. He's hung his pictures on the walls. He's unpacked his thoughts and hard work deep inside my brain.

Flesh stripped from my skeleton; let's step back and survey the damage.
Track Name: Recovery
T-shirts laid over faces. Light breaks in cloth. Air blown into my lungs dries my throat. Laid out as in a coffin; hands held on chest. I drank and ocean of water and have no life vest. I spent three weeks sitting and laying around, but only occupied my mind for a fraction of that time. I'm sorry I could feel this way. I'm sorry I could talk my way from respectful to a scoundrel. It took some time to put in place, to sit beside myself, to clear the attic in my head. To wash my brain again.