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on the ground floor of the saddest apartment building in an ugly town, among broken computers, old sagging sofas and a carpet, stained and brown. the blinds are rusted shut, they never rise or fall, and a calender from 1997 adorns the wall.
there's a faint rancid smell they've grown too accustomed to notice. they hate beautiful things because they long to hold them close. depressing repetition is measurably less brutal and less painful than trying to change only to fail.
in the denouement of life's cycle, they've nothing to show for it, but isolation, disillusionment with the world and their place in it. come the morning i'll be fleeing their flat their town and running from them. but my greatest fear, my greatest fear is that i will become them.
there's a small hint of resentment in each cruel conversation. beautiful things hate them because their doorways have long since closed. depressive attrition, schadenfreude morose tradition. the unholy trinity of aging in a youthful, wretched zeitgeist. case closed.
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into a new era of tears and puke and blood. was it just a dream or were you happy before january first had to come? the x-rays reveal a time bomb. technicians just see scum, who will soon be safely six feet underground... without the strength to run...
in the valley of the new year there's no place for failing organs or falling tears. there's no place for you.
yet still, you dream about that place, with the same expression of gleeful disbelief upon your face. you step through the door to join the revelry, then you wake up and you're filled with misery.
banging on the wall in despair will only ever earn you hateful jeers. they're all hateful.
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i can never be what i want and i can never want what i am. whether merely ignored or hotly deplored, imprisoned or off on the lam. destroyed at conception, an act repeated several times a day. seeking consolation in obliteration, half life still life in shades of grey.
hair of the dog rolls down into the fog. they won't see you cry yet still you live a lie. those bleak hollywood streets that hit too close to home, back home there's no daft audience. you won't live too long.
in a chemical daydream, painkiller brown liquor inhale. there is pressure release yet i still float above my adolescent entrails. scraped knees in the schoolyard, oh how i try hard when i try. and i can smash up glass but i cannot smash all those mirrors shaped like eyes.
a dark role, a black hole, always easier when being rehearsed. i'm on gaurd, but still i fall hard. no matter where i am the masses disperse.
hair of the dog rolls down into the fog, they won't see you cry yet still you live a lie. those bleak hollywood streets still hit too close to home. back home there's no daft audience, yet still you slam the front door, the road is long and bent...
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things just went too wrong, too many times...
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captains of blood-thirsty teams, now doubtful industry. whores beg to be beneath, mirror-fed idolatry. bleed from the broken parts, screeching sarcastic smiles. dualisms dichotomies, equals stupidity.
drink one for sorrow, drink two for joy. a bottle for the emptiness of a sold out house. and i would rather be despised then be ignored, when they don't stop keeping score.
you'll never find true love lost in the lonely crowd. your true name long obscured beneath an iron shroud. real friends cannot be won, just ulterior motives. the people you influence won't care if you die or live.
drink more, it's getting late. drink 8 to numb the hate. on its side it's infinity. well, it feels like that to me. and i would rather be loved by one than to feel the esteem of everyone...oh, look at you all.
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would it be less painful to disappear? hibernating, waiting for the decaying years. we searched for an oasis to the south. the desert ghosts just laughed at us, and they bloodied our mouths.
with shattered nerves, we sought what we deserved. the music of the train would lend us strength. our age of cinders is long and filled with splinters, yet our greatest fear is life's uncertain length.
they want our kind to up and disappear. two of a kind, treated so unkind and existing in fear. we watched as fools took to the stage, and sycophantic lapdogs ruled every written page.
we jumped at each cruel yell. is being ignored a deeper hell? the novelty wears off, revealing rust. now age is showing, the frustration still growing, but youth and innocence are as farcical as trust.
the more we hope the more we fear, we race the dreaded decaying years...we race the dreaded decaying.
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brick chimney wafts a plume of smoke. you can see your breath and your cheeks are stinging. you hear voices blending inside. shot glasses clink, drunken singing. step through the door and join the revelry. poor me a double of your finest whiskey. lines are lined up, you step in line. you scan the room for a warm body or two to help you pass the time.
oh the lanterns glow, pale skin below. the curtains close and you're trapped in an asymptote.
sealiah is the hostess, she supplies the medicine and beer, and you'll never have to leave the valley of the new year.
the valley of the new year, because you're never coming down.
in your disappointing life you've finally found a temporary safe harbour. so you forget about your past, your past regrets and your doubtful tomorrows. candy trays of oblivion's decay. yet another salve to choke the sense of doom down. you're among friends for now, and maybe tomorrow will be the time to remedy your laconic existence...but for now, just abandon all sense.
and you've become a ghost mess, but at least your path is clear, and you'll never get to leave, because new year's day will never reach here.
the valley of the new year, because you're never going up.
no you're never coming down, and you're never going up.
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this song was written for danny lee mclaughlin and is eternally dedicated to his memory. wa2d were good friends with danny and he was a steadfast supporter of our band in the early months. he always had kind and encouraging words and we came to depend on his presence in the audience whenever we'd have a gig. danny took his own life in march of 2011. we love and miss him. here is a link to a wonderful article that appeared in the santa barbara independent in the weeks following danny's passing: http://www.independent.com/news/2011/mar/16/danny-lee-mclaughlin-jr-1966-2011/
rest in peace, friend.
the surrounding sea, the foothills and the valleys. you adored these things, but darkness cuts even through paradise. i saw you the night before. seemed you were having one of your good days. now i know, you had just decided. maybe you were just relieved.
you never called. well, we both know i would not have answered. i never do.
there's darkness in me too. there's a darkness in me.
i missed you by half a mile. now i'm tripped up by what if's and you've made that list. and now, all that i'm missing is your crooked and well worn smile.
there's darkness in me too. there's a darkness in me.
it's unfair that you were lonely, it's unfair that you were scared. well, it's unfair that it's all so fucking unfair.
you never called. well...we both know i would not have answered. well, i never do...but i just hope you knew, i was glad each time you walked in the bar..i just hope you knew.
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released November 11, 2011
recorded, produced and mixed by marvin dominguez at internet studios in isla vista/goleta, CA, summer 2011.
