by Sleep In Sundays



18 songs, written and recorded between December 16th, 2006 and March 14th, 2010, at home.

"I turned back
the house
in the circle
of darkening
a sparkle
of motes in the sky,
like lodestones.
But the wood-smell
took hold of
my heart,
like a hand and its fingers,
like jasmine,
like a memory cherished."
--Pablo Neruda, "A Smell Of Cordwood," trans. by Ben Belitt

"[...]there is nothing to point to, no one
to blame--not the wind
or the tawny meridian
or terrestrial darkness;
no one with a nose or an elbow
or the lengthening of a hip,
or a gust of the wind
or an ankle:
yet the crockery smashes, the lamp topples over,
the flowerpots totter
one after another
crowning the lapsing October
with crimson,
wan with their surfeit of violets,
others holding their emptiness in, circling
and circling and circling
the winter,
till the bowl with its blossoms
is gruel,
a keepsake in ruins, a luminous dust."
--Pablo Neruda, "Things Breaking," trans. by Ben Belitt


released 10 July 2011



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Track Name: Personified
On the first day of my life I was frozen, frigid, cold. The ground was chilled to the core, so far from consoled. My heartbeat rang just one tone. I knew it then I was dying alone.

I would tear myself open just to find you inside--a cold disposition that's personified.
Track Name: July
I saw firecrackers flashing faster than my beating heart, just like July had sunken into our skin. It was pulling us apart. And then the rain would fall, all warm. I thought that I was going to break. I'll never know your hand--soft, God's plan, aching to be awake.

Mosquitoes were making off with all the beer soaked into blood. And kids were making out, slicked with sweat and slipping tongues. Playing dress up with each other's clothes, sneaking cigarettes out open windows. Now summer's rolling raucous, rotting, warped and worn down to broken bones.
Track Name: Something I'll Make Believe
Oh, I've braved the wells and the sunsets and there's nothing left but to accept this. Because not a day goes by that I don't think what I'd say should you come to me again. But in the same way, I've never lived a day that I wished would never end.

I'll go to sleep, pretend you need me, although I know you don't. You never did. It's just something I'll make believe.

I would weave your hair into perfect thread, lay its blanket down on the softest bed. And if winter gets too cold we'll burn these feeble walls, and then I would cut off all my skin just to give you something warm to sleep in.

Please, accept this gift--these meager words--and curl up inside. There you'll hide, and I will wait for the crickets call, until I'm welcome here again.
Track Name: Carved In Rotting Wood
You go, I will leave alone, going home. There's nothing left to do here, nothing left to be. I am going out.

More flames will flicker, yes, more lips will lie in time. Your name's just ringing bells now. This city's falling down. Find memories in rotting wood, and...

The wind will whisper me your new name now, somehow. This house is built on secrets, these walls are full of shit, and I am going down...

I hear that hollow hearts are beating, bringing two where once was one.

I hear that nickname when the street sings and the sky spills paint on everyone.

And I want to say, "I hate you." I want to tear you limb from limb.

Instead, I say, "It's cool, dude, I'll pick up after you again."