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by Autumn Rising

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The door in my chest swings, tingling broken. I will wait right here for your eyes to open, pale and clear. Then the muskateer will disappear and find a place to lie down and rest. I watch your hospital gown for the slightest motion. When the bluest ocean bears a rescue ship, I will rise and swallow my sword.
April Fools 01:22
Autumn rising, slow capsizing. Now the palms have been read. The future holds cyclones, skulls and crossed bones, fly the flag of my decapitated head. Through blinding pains and hurricanes, we cling to the hope for change. Look how long we've been waiting. For so long. There is treasure here we have been shown, but it's never ours to hold. We can't escape this undertow, until the current lets us go. Look how long we've been waiting.
Galaxies 05:40
The Great Destroyer rises on wishful wings, penetrating faces to seize our hiding places and stuff them with galaxies of possibility. Voluntarily, we will make opaque the way home. Her eyes are the eyes of a whale butcherer, gray and empty jails, imprisoners. Remnants of a flag that fell. Stranded in a stagnant well, where majesty and miracles are so common place that they become invisible. You're fucking brave to come here and put me back together and hold me when I tremble because I will not let you go. Unless you say so. Whenever the wind blows, it stirs up the old ghosts. They stare through my windows where I lie awake and wonder how many years it takes to die. The queen is coming. Murderer of sunlight. Rememberer of every time I felt afraid. Furnisher of airtight reasons why we should be dealt the pain. The queen is coming. Catastrophic great white, towing purple faces down to hell.
The executioners who never meant to hurt me, who torture nightly with those eyes that they train to puncture, pikes with perfect points so pure, bright as a field of snow. Pride leaves the tongue blackened. It may be harmful if swallowed. It goes down like a yellow jacket swarm. The truth is in here somewhere, if I search hard enough under words you wrote so small. I may have altered definitions, but it was just to break my fall. This always happens to me. The guillotine is all shine.
DAWN 05:33
I couldn't stop the bleeding, the dripping of the sun. Slips through blinds into the blackness, the tourniquet was undone. I couldn't hold back the dawn. I wasn't even sleeping when the lightswitch flickered on. Once the was a feeling, but now I think it's gone.
That was a sight, I bet. Pathetic. Cover your eyes - from me to butterfly. A metamorphosis for you who witnessed this. For a second there, I thought I was something. I bet that was something to see. So sunken hopes address the bedroom mirror, smile into sleepless eyes, "That was a close one, dear." We could've died. "That was a close one, dear." Here again is the same mistake we always make. I baked it for two years. So real. For a second there I thought it was really something. Because I baked it for two years, but still it's undercooked. How did I overlook my ugliness when I misread the recipe? So shut the over door. Wait. Let me get my head inside first.
I watch the joyless river flow, backwards. Again and again, replay it - the critical instant I became an unwanted pet. I'm not Jack the Ripper, how do I warrant shudders? Since when were words flamethrowers? earthshakers? Purple sunlight sprawling amonst our skipping stones courage was drawing, it swelled to overflow and spill a question just like a pebble cast. There was a ripple where the should be a splash. Surrounding, like stretching giants, the trees were never so tall. It wasn't Jack the Ripper you refused there by the river. I let the hate evaporate and amputate the truth from the mythology. Preserved inside formaldehyde, she hides behind a shield of wool. Invisible, but not to Jack the Ripple.
Trapped inside a twisted tree, the fledgling feebly tests unsure wings. But then retreats, because unmistakably she is falling. High above I hear her urgent callings. Her rescuers grow tired of watching beauty bruise and break the skin to demonstrate the ugliness within. Please get well. And teach yourself to fly.
Gloomy, galloping through cemeteries, excavating graves. Hatchets buried around here everywhere, but the venom was never so real and unconcealed. Bones revealed, crookedly were healed. She's buried around here somewhere and if I let her, she might come back, naked and still enraged, hoping it's not too late to kiss and make up. Beyond the gates, they've come to find you. Behold their faces. Do they remind you who you left behind?
I believed there was an angel underneath, buried so deep she couldn't see her true reflection. So I invited her daemons into me, foolishly thinking I could be an agent of change. Don't feel unforgiveable, but my fears made it horrible sleeping with your wings unfolding out from under me. Still holding onto memory's soarings, ignoring the downpouring little tragedies I'm storing, buried deep in our dreamworld. Nothing changed.


released May 1, 1999

Robert Steven Billups- guitar, voice, casio
Jerry Dirr- drums
Stephen Howard, bass

recorded by Autumn Rising in a basement.
mastered by Dan Murphy at Group Effort Studios - Kentucky.
layout and design by Robert Steven Billups. Printing by Jim Parker at ParkerPress


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