Voice of the other one who breathes in me.. honest to the weeds, you can have the air, it’s yours to care for, I’ve no need. Who could believe in the cast they chose? All shadow, all gap. Gravity of the void, widen all the cracks.
Call up an image in red, green, blue light: call it white. Let it fade and when there’s a lack: call the something else black.
Plastic taste to the myth. Grasping at waste till a fistful of this mist…
ugh.. anyway...
Scatter the crumbs, wait to look back, take in the measure of the degrees on the new map. I believe slow but something grows from contact.
Visible only after the echo. Not my call, I'm trying to let go. Simply receive until they tell me it’s my time to leave.
Lit by star, hungry still, but so far, so very ill. Get me to cliffside, or even just up that there hill.
Once the spell is broken, the magic is spent. You can’t go now anywhere that it went.
Yes, I hear you fine. But I don’t want your words, I've got mine.
Every day less stretch, and I play my best until that sun sets,
and I walk back away from the west. There’s a catch to this game. I don’t know the rules but please don’t explain.
Ten thousand wings, ten thousand eyes. Outside this land, ten thousand wide. Some desert far from you. Still trying to believe it’s true.
Risky inches impressed into the impossibly warm. Chase them far away from here while we await the storm. Big energetic liars with a bold stance: one told me "romance over the unknown", but I won’t give them a chance. I can really be a problem for the order because, well... fuck a border. Fly on the forever-wall until I get the really real call. Keep fresh, keep ready, All prepped and set and you bet we spare not a second thought for the time when there is no rational sublime.
Find me, don’t find me, I’ll be here no matter what.
The way is clear. The door will never shut.
Listening to this a few years on, Chapter 319 feels almost melancholic, a reminder of the time where police abolition had nearly mainstream appeal. The tracks still make me furious at the bullshit cops continue to get away with. dninemfive
Each line on this album is delivered with malice, and each word hits like a mace to the skull. Backxwash uses raw aggression to vent frustration and anguish in a way that evokes an anger with the world rather than a pity for her. Luke Warmwater