all his empty show

by cat be damned

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    hand-numbered run of 25 hand-made tapes. first pressing on my label pororum tapes.

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about

a handful of songs about praying & related feelings

credits

released 14 January 2015

everything written/played/recorded by erik phillips at the vanilla dome in fredericksburg, va. mastered by andrew t. nelson in portland, me. all photos taken in and around richmond, va by erik.

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license

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feeds

feeds for this album, this artist
Track Name: parking on the freeway
we both like mountains, but not in the same way. i could eat my calendars: i'm still up through the days. i wish i hit myself as hard as you hit me. i talk all my dumb tough shit sentimentally. the friends of my friends, they're no friends of mine. parked on the freeway, my friends get drunk at night. the clothes i buy myself will probably stay on. the cash that i can spend can probably stay gone. the friends i make myself: i don't talk to them. i bought myself a phone so i can hang up on all of them again. the friends of my friends, they're no friends of mine. drunk on the freeway, things get fucked up at night.
Track Name: come over
come over; we'll get in my car and run over anything we want to kill because i paid for gas and we've got time and minds to kill and then pretend we care about. either it's broke or it's a scam; either my throat or it's my hand that's open; either i'm broke or broke my hands; either i don't or understand what's spoken. come over; we'll run over how we feel. this station: straight-to-DVD salvation in the number on the screen you see spells out a word, but not one you can read out loud so try and sound it out.
Track Name: you're probably not dead
life gets even vengefully. you died for me, but i'm still not dead.
Track Name: patron saint of interest rates
i would like to do things just like i'm supposed to, or as close to as i can. though your bills can stack, they won't hold any weight or stand to pressure. neither can i. that's a lie: you see me standing here, i'm making noises. all of these noises are on loan, paid on my own. i'm in heaven getting postcards in the mail with pretty cathedrals drawn on the front. all the places in church filled up with space fill up with people. sitting up front, standing up. in efforts to get my attention, they sing in their voices. all of their noises are on loan, paid on their own.