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Humorism

by Mouthbreather

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1.
The altar where we hold grandma to the flame The idol’s stony face opens just a trace The slot machine is paying out our investment at last Spitting money at us as we dance Far afield the thought congeals and I want to know What is the exchange rate on a soul a great shame but a needful one I sold my brain to pay the rent Pawned my skin for grub Ain’t that just the rub Why’d we risk getting sick Just to die from ignorance So you didn’t have to admit You made a wrong assessment I hold the necessary falsehood in my hand Maniacally laughing drafting up a five year plan Desperate and sad I hold the ever present panic in my chest To wrest a soul from nonexistence likely isn’t best The kids just won’t exist Counting all my blessings for being alive Choking on something like when I arrived Mom’s still crying And we’re just never quite done dying Sisyphus is grinning I think he’s having fun I wonder what he’s got planned for when he gets done He’s been looking forward to looking forward to something I’ve been looking forward to looking forward to something
2.
Blueprints 04:00
Tucking malice deeper into my stomach You ask me if I’m taking time to find the joy in this Eyeing my supplies for a slightly darker time I’m bending reality a hair as I reply “With bitterness, the taste is acquired with time And we revel in the drowning as we die” The stillness would be meditative If I could follow through With opening my data bank And tearing out the truth They’re sending me a check so I don’t ask them any questions Pity I can’t touch my face to wipe away the wetness I know we’re all busy in our little Edens, tiny hells But the blueprints for the guillotine aren’t drafting up themselves
3.
Taken too soon from my mushroom cloud of sleep The bandaid still glued on like a hungry leech Just imagine the gangrenous stuff beneath Derelict strip mall getting swallowed up by weeds Jumped the shark last season Can’t join em and can’t beat em Ratings ever dismal Just you and Chekhov’s pistol No trumpets through the din Just waiting for the hit Haven’t even seen the worst of it Stick around to see how bad it gets Rome didn’t collapse just overnight And living out of spite is still a life I’m not even mad, I’m laughing I’m laughing
4.
Fraught with aphasia Having not spoken a word In many months A pack of dogs On the street Looking skinny Looking mean All I can do is genuflect To show respect And the alpha not understanding the concept Bristling, shows his teeth to me Damp with sweat I can’t afford to lose Wearing a pale approximation of shoes “at least it’s not the office blues” And they stalk off Hungrily Not detecting any meat On my frame I rejoice And it’s time to celebrate As I’m eating The last MRE from my stash I reflect on my anointment As King of the Dogs Am I baring teeth or smiling Ain’t this little pack just thriving // In a stupor, gallows humor Worse now the rope looks real The trick question I keep asking echoing back to me Can I instill value into My screams into the void Somewhere a militia that is formed up of my molecules Aligns in flawless formation to flip me the bird Is my meaning wrested from my reports to management? And if a sound is unheard is it even worth a shit? Who am I to assume that there’s even a guarantee That when I smith my silver sword, its target will be clear to me Rest assured I’ll point that thing at what it’s meant to cleave If you need me I’ll be steeping in my feelings Peaceful, numb in my twilight years A wistful rictus fixed upon my visage If you need me I’ll be seeking something solid /// Picking at the scab Revolting what you had A little less than God A little more than dad Up here where the serfs can’t see Children are their currency They’re burning down the library They built an ark but it’s not for me He’ll never let you shake his hand Because you’d know he's just a man And when you look the other way His smile fades so fast Up here in the platinum suite Secrets keep you less than free they’re job creators, they’re the GDP They built an ark but it’s not for me You want to ask him, “where’d the money go?” But even the Pentagon doesn’t know Wonder when they’re taking off It surely cannot come soon enough
5.
Temperaments 04:05
Bile black like what’s before your birth The miasma of an unknown earth gracelessly I swirled Bile yellow like a goldfish is plastic bag tied up with a twist unceremonious Nose running in his ripe old age Are there symptoms he don’t wave away Forget he said a thing strange melancholia can’t imagine what it was A lot of pressure building up Or just amassing too much blood Temperaments are imbalanced Warning whistle at the vents We’re just so tender me and you Day after birthday sad balloons A baby breathes and we’re across the room The needle gets you and you’re through
6.
Humorism 05:43
I’m choking on my disbelief I’m burning in my lack of faith I’m feeling ill, I’m something’s host but not the sin you diagnosed my fever breaks a sneaker wave and back again to inundate when she came to vaccinate I slapped the demon’s hand away Leeches on and humors out Leeches on and humors out An acolyte’s commitment to holding onto doubt you couldn’t talk me down from my feral holy mount Leeches on and humors out I’m dying from a clickbait link Im sick from overthinking things I’m screaming at a kindly soul The burden clearly took its toll I’m choking on my disbelief I’m burning in my lack of faith I’m feeling ill I’m something’s host but not the sin you diagnosed Leeches on and humors out The bedside manner fades Putting on another face The stoicism now affixed Like Charon coming down the Styx Leeches on and humors out What the fuck have you done to me Pneumoniac with the new TB I see it’s all conspiracy I know what’s pumping through the IV
7.
No Matter 03:56
In my early retirement Soothsaying with a toothsome grin Tattered sign in the howling wind It is liberating to say it Social contract was a crock of shit Ego death is pending now Not much more to brood about Next summer smoked farther out But how far till we cannot taste it How much till we cannot take it Austere or ostentatious Guess it doesn’t matter too much You’re gonna live your comfort anyway Throw your broken cell phones in the sea Kick the forest spirit in the teeth If all we have are runes And incantations for the moon If all we have are songs Overwrought, ungodly long No matter no matter Nihilism is a silly game I want to stick around to see it break Laughing with my friends around the flames Something germinating in the dirt Waiting for the day it can emerge Gotta fertilize it with the flesh of kings first
8.
More Weight 03:20
It’s not like setting a fractured bone It’s not like fixing a broken home It’s mercy caving in its head And leaving the country dead Maybe we’ll try this again When you’re not so belligerent It’s just not worth the extra effort When your senator doesn’t read his letters It’s just not worth the bandwidth Throwing another fit We’ll give it another go When your hand’s not on my throat Take it back to square one Rebooting an earlier run harm reduction from inside an iron maiden slowly closing and of course the light is fading ease the burden from inside a bronze bull lemonade just ain’t enough to cool it off Just can’t help but accelerate Like Giles Corey yelling out “more weight” Just can’t help but celebrate Like Giles Corey yelling out “more weight”

about

Self recorded in the flooded basement of our SE Portland rental.

credits

released September 17, 2022

All lyrics, guitar, and keys by Leo Brill
All drums, recording, and mixing by Joey Burnah.
Album art by Jess and Eric Ackerson.

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Mouthbreather Portland, Oregon

Math rock, post-hardcore, and experimental folk walk into a bar. The sound person only provides them with 4 drink tickets, because they are a two-piece band called Mouthbreather.
Dynamic song structures and time signatures with no shortage of distinct melody and thoughtful lyricism. Something for everybody! Except maybe your aunt who might say “I don’t get why he has to do all that yelling.”
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