There Is No Separation

by teethforteeth

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06:25

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photo credit to Nikolas Brummer (www.flickr.com/photos/nikkothenerd/)

recorded in our own pat fonte's bedroom.

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released 18 January 2015

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teethforteeth Hammonton, New Jersey

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Track Name: Mumbled Words
Am I the youth you pissed away, the reminder of the past you couldn't keep? They built over those streets you grew up in, and you built right over me with pretty things.

Mumbled words said in different ways, mumbled words that sting now more than they did

I can't believe that this brought you back to the start–or that you reclaimed anything lost. The best I can hope for is moving on.

There may never be another four walls that'll mean half as much as they did. Stained glass and cracked floorboards that I only now see in my dreams, fleeting fast with the years passing, coasting on an idea you picked up: that there's worth in a family ending, that in the end we're better off.

Mumbled words said in different ways, mumbled words that sting now more than they did.

When you're dead and gone, it'll be as if you were never here at all. Bitter words to your blackened lungs.
Track Name: Spilled Lives
Most days we don’t sleep at night. We only wonder where the sun went. You’ll discover that faces known as friends and lovers grab at your cloths trying to hover on their dead air. These days we’re more afraid of getting old than dying. And maybe potential is where it should have ended, but I cant think that. I cant think that (when nothing seems to work)
All that’s left is your own words that linger like smoke when you left the room. They say will you always be lost in life? Think of me kindly. Know me better than myself.

Be lost in life. Think of me kindly. Know me better then myself.
Track Name: There Is No Separation
I'll spill my heart out on the floor, cut it open and let it pour out, just to put a nail in all my doubts. How can i think that I'm empty if im drowning in the room? I didn't know that I was dead until you showed me that I'm never hurt. I hadn't noticed there was a difference in this house, but now it all makes sense. I've been walking through walls, floating from room to room. I've been haunting these halls hust to be with you. I want to be in the head of a dead man. I want to pull his last breath through my lungs. What it's like to be alone, to be a ghost in my own home, to have nothing left to live for? I'm emotionally tapped at twenty-four. Now all that's left is fear. I want to be in the head of a dead man for the short moment when you came back to life. I'll tell him the goodbye that I've wanted to for the past two years. I'll say I'm so sorry that I wasn't there. The strength I must have to push these weighted thoughts to the corners of my mind, its a strength I don't have anywhere else. In the car you were dying from a coughing fit. Did you know they were your last? Did you know they were the last three breaths you'd ever take? I hope you weren't scared. I'm so sorry I wasn't there. Don't forget that we're connected, however loose it may seem. There is no separation. One day I'll feel the slack tighten.
Track Name: Smoldered Youth
You said your wounds fade away if you shove discomfort in a comfortable place. There's nothing more to say than you never loved anyone the same. "They're not coming back" these words are weighing down your frame.

We're alive: that's progress.

I'll just lose myself inside my head; I'll be comfortable when I'm dead.

I'll sleep when it's better to breathe, so cast out your demons, but watch what you leave.

We're lesser versions of ourselves, in this ghost of a house–just a story to tell.

The world's getting smaller, and we've just noticed. Hush these bitter words to a docile tone. You can have my heart; I only want to breathe when it's over.

We're alive: that's progress.
Track Name: Negative Space
Could we drown any slower? Are these lines too vague for us to cross? Because I've been feeling stuck, and I've been spending too much time with these thoughts. Well you'd rather overdose, than slit your wrists and push this on yourself. There's too much trouble in admitting fault in the things that I can't help.

Will we ever get tired? In carrying their mistakes on our backs. Because I'll never find myself in them and neither will you. It hurts to know that the best of us is what we settled for. We're not getting that back.

You'll never find yourself: in a pill or a midlife crisis.

Stop trying to drown yourself in this mess I've made. I'm not swimming to the top.

And all I find are closed doors, so when I go out, I'll be smiling at the ceiling.
Track Name: Promise
It's something I see you wearing more these days, not over your skin, but in your smile: the toll this illness has had on you, a hopeful sadness for your son.

“This isn’t the real you,” she said. “You used to smile as a child.” I know I wish I could be more like him. What I wouldn’t give to be him again.

So this is it. This is the man I grew to be. I somehow thought he would be less of a coward.

The years I spent praying I'd die in my bed.

So this is something I've come to know. I'm afraid to die, but more afraid to change. And I'm sorry, so sorry, I gave you that weight. Could you ever imagine having to bury a son?
Track Name: Wake
There’s a hole in the dirt. There’s a hole in my heart. One will be filled up. One will fall apart.

Could you see me with your eyes closed shut? Would you hug me if your arms weren’t folded?

And nothing hurts worse than packing all your clothes in black plastic bags out of the house, and your room is hollow. You’ve gone somewhere I can't follow.

But you’ve leaned on my heart with all your weight. You changed the way that it looks and feels.

Please don’t leave. No don’t go. You’re the only home I've ever known. I cant get past this. I'm on my own.

I've inherited a weight. I've inherited a guilt. I can't support the house that you’ve built. I've inherited a weight. I've inherited a guilt. I can't support the house that you’ve built because there's bad blood.

Theres bad blood on my hands and on my face. It’s a disgrace to the man that you were, and I'm not that same man… it’s a real shame.

It’s a poor man in a poor man's grave. Its all the same to your kind. Who you killed was someone’s father. Who you killed that was my father. That’s all the same to your kind.

The heart is a faceless clock, and no one ever thinks of when it stops till you're dead on the table and your son arrives and holds your hand in his, and its still as warm as your smile–like you were waiting for me, and God, I cried so hard. It's like you took the winter with you because for the next three days it rained.

For the next three days it rained, as the world wept you away

I won't let you die. I'm keeping you alive. If only in my head, you're not dead. You're not dead. You're not dead. You're not dead. You're not dead.