Signs for the Blind

by Plainspoke

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1.
Like Midas, I touch what turns to gold, guide us toward the pot to grow, the pasta bowl that's infinite like god would know Like I would know my mystery, eyes are bloodshot blister pleased, I fist the beat, it's an errand, done it before when no one was staring a plentiful bore for plentiful boys, planning for toys that been other boys A fan of a foisted love endorsed by damsels in distress those who take you for colors and leave you redacted at best the alchemist know the way the path to fame and fortune, lead by dwarfing mountains morphed in moistened towellettes and sex tapes in blurred family portraits last dates and first kisses, doctor visits and black eye stitches a book read and thrown aside, truth be told it was all lies a move to gloat about the light lost inside the tunnel's life there's nothing left inside, nothing left there out to sign that's what they're about to find
2.
Matchsticks 03:53
I was born a catholic, then I became a catfish Once fooled, twice shy, ---- Where we stand and when it goes, when it blows, it's wind self-imposed and overlaid on virgin toast and marmalade like dominoes in their last parade, a common ghost of overlooking the common denomination made and took it, got the bookies on the take, the maiden voyage never made it's way across the frozen lake, I found the gold flake, discovered it was fake, and made them taste it, the old medicine of play confessed I left a part of my self-control, some called it indestructible, at sight it's a combusted vestibule of hope shatters every sign of luck from here, this side of a hall of mirrors but fuck it, I'm busy self-destructing, got my mittens stolen by the man that told me it was only holy if I go bare, blind and deaf this way to lift the weights of death and never say a word of happened, least not yet I was born a catholic, then I became a catfish Once fooled, twice shy, now I'm made of matchsticks ---- some of the boys made bets against each other hoping to best their altar brothers open a chest of rotting flesh, first to cry will lose the ties of the rest, bursted eye they called it fast, forget the tears when he calls to pass got the fear before you're known to be the fearful, written off as boys will be boys when you get that earful but some of the girls made bets against their sisters, sitting in their jumpers while they read the will of some dead mister bow down for the all-seeing beast-man, to take this from our hands and in the ground lies the reasons we stand for that free-fall, controlled by the ropes that we will later recall and fill the hole with dirt and sand hide the rotting flesh in a box inside the earth, concrete to protect and steel to lift the curse contain the souls for no escape, tethered to their holy gates, forever just defines their place I was born a catholic, then I became a catfish Once fooled, twice shy, now I'm made of matchsticks ----
3.
Talk to me like I've got something on my mind, walking round a wish-it-well, dropping in all my dimes And I'd wish you well, but I've not got the time, ring my bell when it's time to dine, and I'm busy selling all my chimes to the wind that blows the way I sign I missed the boat so I walk on the water, to cross the pond looking for monsters, he drops the bomb on his mother and father, or they drop the bomb for the bullet's commerce to prevent war from happening he makes it and says it's sad but he can't stop once he's started to back it in he packs it in and made these robots with parts that are departed, he knows his home is haunted and bought it for bargains to burn it down so no one ever knows the sound of no and never, goes in clever, comes out dumb and wasted, strung up puppets played in mazes for the fun of painted faces Hook: From the basement to the attic, I'm a face in the shattered mirrors Ghosts in all these houses, follow them and count your fears x2 I fixed the boat and made an offer, tethered to that postman's coffer, tip jar for cops and robbers to play their part as awkward paupers, the cops and robbers of western fathers of pop's and mom's shop full of pots and pans that never wash or use again, that never cause a cancer in a simple answering, a single hand syringe, to shoot up that heroin, I'm afraid there's no place for him, set to the tune of the tv, the safest place to be is the ceiling on dvd, when everyone is a demon to be one moon from a werewolf, one blood sucker from a vampire, one car from a buick 8, one scar from you's too late to put out the damn fire
4.
caught me sifting through the sand of my manhood, the handbook you can't look at, top secret method cooking cook us up a lawsuit, trying to sue that law's suit, that talking head that saw you through the tv got your rocks loose, marbles rolling sideways in that bed head of rhetoric, the red dress and red lips of redrum run through bad gifs bless him says the father of the man that is the child, says the quote to live by wordsworth the time of day in miles I'm a mercenary bird perched to shit on my target, some people and some cars and some windows to catharsis find it hard to buy the part with the parking lot of hardships, some cars are garbage and others fresh off the market and parking meters served by meter maids that work to feed their meter maids in some convoluted curse of keeping cake just to eat it later, so they say as I watch their birthday's play out, blown candles and presents wrapped in fabric handles make for ways to bail south for winter, but winners don't give up, they learn to fail and pick themselves a worm from the big crutch the kid loves his blocks to build with, it's all he's got, when all about the building are plots to scheme to kill them from the cops to the kinsmen, are brothers with love for minions, and mothers that must give them the child on the cusp of crimson flood they must kill him because he's about to build a bomb, to blow the world to bits, would you kill him if it meant to save your own skin? Hook: These signs for the blind in the mind of the sighted, some call it shining and others try to fight it These signs for the blind in the mind of the sighted, some call it shining and others are undecided How do you find the piece to fit the puzzle when they all look the same and none are less the puzzle Got the rain made in factories with batteries to strike the lightning, thunder made in speakers lodged under bikes typing me and i and they again, repeated like a prayer to send nowhere but the barren ends to mean an average there depends on nabbing hares as fast as rabbits, when we're slow as tortoises living out our retirements in madness Hook: These signs for the blind in the mind of the sighted, some call it shining and others try to fight it These signs for the blind in the mind of the sighted, some call it shining and others are undecided

about

Written and recorded in a single day as a motivational tool. Serves as a thematic sequel to Echoes of Dead Men.

Bonus track with every download.

credits

released September 21, 2013

Lyrics by Plainspoke. Artwork by D. Sitarz.
Production:
The Alchemist - Mafata
Big Macs - Duggi
Count Your Fears - ZayRock
Signs for the Blind - Handbook
Matchsticks - Silas Is Dead
Mr. Lincoln - Plainspoke

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Plainspoke Denver, Colorado

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