Cellar Doors

by The Dead Ends

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credits

released December 3, 2010

All songs © 2010 Loud Poetry music, ASCAP.
All songs written and performed by The Dead Ends.
All rights reserved.

Recorded, Produced, Mixed, and Mastered by Nick Williams at Inner Peace Security Studios in West Point, Georgia.

All lyrics by Will Fargason
Cover photo by Kayla Miller
Layout and Design by John David Wright
All drums written and performed by Matt Pike.
Additional guitars by Matt Pike.

The Dead Ends are:
Will Fargason (vocals, guitar)
Cody Boss (bass, vocals)
Jordan Haden (drums)

www.myspace.com/thedeadendsrock

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Track Name: Mother and Father
So I’ll lie still here,
wait for the flies near
to lay their waiting eggs
that hatch their wanting legs
to visit the wide world,
and marry a fine whore.
But time is your lover,
and an unhearing father.

All the debt collectors
call during Christmas hours:
scratching slinking voice
heard underneath the door.
All my senile sins
are on a payment plan.
But desire is your lover,
and an unhearing mother.

Oh, I’m here.
Track Name: Yellow Belly
In the waiting room, I see a woman.
My desire for her is startling.
I try to crack a smile for her stare,
but the openness is not something I can bare.

I’d love to ask her her name—
play the part, lead a silly game.
The cost is too high: I fold again,
scared of the possibility of pain.

’Cause I’m so scared to talk to you,
afraid of what you might say or do.
The scab, it flakes and scabs again
like nothing I say will ever begin
to fix the problem I’m not willing to face.
Let’s deny the fact that lead to replace…

I built myself a strong fence.
I sat long and hard in silence.
The gravity of loneliness pulls me in
to never know where to begin.

I felt the rhetoric building slowly:
sight of the sound brings me to my knees.
Over time, it takes strong forms
into night sweats and poems.

’Cause I’m so scared to talk to you,
afraid of what you might say or do.
The scab, it flakes and scabs again
like nothing I say will ever begin
to fix the problem I’m not willing to face.
Let’s deny the fact that lead to replace…

I haven’t spoken to you in a while;
the truth leads me to denial.
Except when I fear for my life,
Jesus Christ, I need to sacrifice.

’Cause God, I know of Your plan,
it led me to where I can’t begin.
I haven’t seen your face in the clouds:
a reflection in my eyes full of doubt.

’Cause I’m so scared to talk to you,
afraid of what you might say or do.
The scab, it flakes and scabs again
like nothing I say will ever begin
to fix the problem I’m not willing to face.
Let’s deny the fact that led to replace…

’Cause I’m so scared to talk to you,
but I don’t know what to do
to patch the scab as it flakes again
and God knows I don’t know where to begin.
I’ll never fix the problems I’m not willing to face.
Here’s a song fit to replace…

I’m fine being benign.
I’m fine falling behind.
I’m fine facing time.
Just don’t make me rewind.
Track Name: Ambulance Again
As I wait for my medicine,
my pharmacist smokes cigarettes
and the smoke moves slow
like insects in wintertime.

You reminded me of someone I once knew.

As I trace the lines of your frame
I realize why, and call out God’s name.
And your words move cocaine fast,
and transcend the time we’ve got left.

You reminded me of someone I once knew.

My Muse left me years ago.
Now, it’s really starting to show.
As I lay down in bed,
I repeat what you said:

You reminded me of someone I once knew.

I’m calling an ambulance again
(another panic attack again).
I don’t know where to begin,
so I’ll start off with an end.
Track Name: Good Luck (Finding Yourself a Man)
Good luck (finding yourself a man).

One that will: kiss your eyes, and you can lay down beside.
One that will: live the lie that you keep inside.
One that will: read your mind, and be so kind.
One that will: wipe your tears even before they appear.
One who will: put his cards on the table—show you he’s able.
One who will: come to your rescue when you need saving.
One that will: heal your pain once you take his name.
One who you can surely expect to be everything except me.

Good luck (finding yourself a man).
Good luck (finding yourself a good man).
Good luck (finding yourself, again).
Track Name: Embalmer
The steam, it’s fogging up the glass,
beaded now and falling fast—
freezes at the bottom now,
piled into pools of snow.

I followed you outside
just to watch you unwind.
I peeled back your fuselage.
I spoke to your demons in time.

You’re most alive
when you’re about to die.
Listen to the dead;
repeat what they said.

Don’t let it seal you
in it’s time tomb.
It’s the fate you face
that keeps your heart straight.

I preserved your memory
like an Egyptian mummy:
canopic jars of organs,
and you wrapped in strips of linen.

But give me something new,
give me something different.
I've seen enough to know
I need to see enough.

Nausea:
Go away.
Memory:
Stay away.
Track Name: Anyone's Savior
She said I reminded her of Jesus,
but I couldn’t see the resemblance.
I haven’t broken the bread
and fed my friends.
I drank the wine turned from water,
then threw it back up later.
I’ve tossed my seeds
among thorns and dead trees.

I saw a light delayed on Damascus.
Now it’s so bright I can’t stand it.
I never washed her dirty feet
with my hair on a dim street.
I tried to walk to you on the water,
but sank when I faltered.
Oh, but I’ve tasted your hands,
and built rocks up on sand.

She says I have gifts bestowed
from Heaven above.
I’m just trying to know
my self and love my self, love.
It’s a paradox, I say,
you, being the safest place.
I know all but nothing.
It’s a place to start for something.

I got the pills that will help you see.
I got some pills that help me believe.
And if I could, I would start the stop.

I’m not anyone’s savior.
No, I’m not a savior;
I can’t even save myself.

I can’t start the stop
to save myself.
Track Name: Treasure
In the realm of constructed dreams
where everything is not what it seems,
she exists above them all,
reveling in a hole of the bathroom stall.

Under the crisp ocean top,
she sings about what it’s not.
Her truth is my lie—
selfishly constructed eyes.

She was a whore, but she was my whore.
(One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.)
She was a whore, but she was my whore.
(My trash is my treasure.)
She was a whore, but she was my whore.
Track Name: Sticky Heart
Slow down with the metaphors—
you’re going way too fast.
Splitting them like a simile,
an analogy never lasts.
But hold it tight, you might feel it,
if you’re lucky.
Give it back, it was never yours—
your heart is sticky.

Every one of you tastes the same.
It’s only when you love someone
that they taste any different
and even then it’s just
an illusion; you’re deceived,
it’s not hard to see.
So give me back, I was never yours—
your heart is sticky.

A past fleeting daydream
becomes a present actuality
and leaves the future
a memory.
How can I write when I can find my mind?
How can I heal when I can’t feel time?
So give it back, it was never yours—
your heart was sticky.

I don’t want to know what I have to know.
I don’t want to go where I have to go.
I don’t want to show all I have to show.
I don’t want to know what I have to know.
Even you would say the same,
God knows I’m to blame.
Even you would say the same,
If you really looked at me.

Even you know it’s a game.
Even you would say the same,
If you really looked at me,
You’re never all I see.
Track Name: Sin Tax
You must be dead by now,
for too many years have passed.
Love does not exist
until you’ve created it.
You must have lit
the green light across the bay.
It glowed like my desire
for what I could never have.

With the coming heat,
she left me alone to feed
the plants along the cellar door,
and to wait for what’s in store.
We spoke of God, sex, and art—
things that transcend time.
I kissed your cold tile, saying,
“You’re the only thing not moving.”

All I know is that I don’t want to die alone.
Every living creature must eventually find a home.
But all I have is this disconnected phone.
Please God, don’t leave me here to die alone.
Track Name: September 16th
Hallelujah, it must feel great to brush it under the rug.

Hallelujah, it must feel great to lower your standards.

Hallelujah, I haven’t spoken to you in five months.

Hallelujah, I hope you are not doing too well.

Hallelujah, I think I’m finally over you.

Hallelujah, I lie to myself just as much as you do.

Hallelujah, I’m here.

Hallelujah, I’m wrong.

Hallelujah, I’m through.

Hallelujah, I’m gone.