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The Lost Album

by Justin Clifford Rhody

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  • the last two songs i wrote (7" lathe)
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    Transparent square lathe-cut 7" record
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All at once everyone in the room jumps up: “I can help you with some money”, while my cousins comply - being actors we always try, and our lines aren’t what comes out of our mouths when they’re open, it’s more than the motion cause it takes time. And it’s time for the ceiling to hit the roof, cause it’s always lonely in the computer room and we’re the men of the world, so no we don’t wanna meet you because we’re near it all the time.
Bare Claws 02:09
And the thousand cousins that you’ve never met drop their guard and just let you let yourself inside, it’s no reason to throw a fit just cause your coke fiend aunt says, “Don’t trust your friends.” Cause our hats are still in your car take first couple steps into the five foot depth dark, who’s afraid of anything these days since we’ve all got bare claws (“What?”) Well our hats might be kind of big but they’re not filled concrete, And if you’ve ever felt ever the slightest bit alone they’d like you to believe that there’s a hole in the sheet, So who’s in charge, yeah who’s in charge here, Cause the first couple steps into the five foot depth dark was just the start.
Boring Boys 00:36
Boring boys with flip flops turn into the slow-life gripper, Tells you that he’ll see you in the afternoon at this time, But you might wanna just record the first try, Cause boring boys say: “I never do what I want to.”
You could spend your whole life on a dream of a Georgia beach with loud people surrounding you, So you may think it’s the end of your life, but I’m telling you: “I’ve slept next to slow breathing.” Cause you thought my feet were dangling, and I thought that you were rocking the boat, but then smoke fills up your eyeballs, lungs, cheeks and throat. And there’s nothing exciting about sweat dripping down your neck, And there’s nothing romantic about sleeping in a tent. Dead Fisherman it seems you’ve lost your net, Cause that great voice you thought you heard was something that just made your feet all wet, But now my hairs long and I fall back in your stride, All my friends say: “Hey Justin, won’t you please let us inside?” (But I didn’t know that you wanted a rotten peach with a soggy bottom, With beaches of sand that could cut our feet.) Forty years in the future, it’s getting easier to say: “Hey Colleen, I think your boyfriends bleeding.”
And if you look at me then you’ll look like me, And then you’ll ask me if you can ask me what side I’m on. But if you pay attention then it’ll pay it back, And if you ask me questions then I’ll give it back. My back is what I’m on.
There’s no fucked up or small stack or walk there and walk back, Cause he’ll sing to you but then you’ll talk to me, And there’s no whispering once the smooth feeling rut turns into a slow lotion. The fisherman starts sharing his drinks with me and then he said, “Everything should work how it should now, and if you ever have another dream about stabbing somebody please let it involve me.”, (Cause) I know you think I’m just a fourteen year old with a stupid sounding voice and no idea about the world, But I’m almost twenty-two. I walk into the kitchen from the living room, Where an over-priced speeding ticket from some place that I once visited asks me: “Is it really worth it if you live the first half of your life in a lotion-ed garbage can?”, That’s unlike your friends who talk too loud when they say, “I don’t need it near me, but I won’t hold it against you.”, But still, I made it through my early twenties without a telephone. Cause a slowly seeping forward-moving motion will force me to comb my hair, When two teenage girls just start to hear that “You wouldn’t like it, it’s boring. ”
When I move across the room my feet touch the floor, but there’s a loss of them through an open sliding door when someone says “I’m almost on the plane”, it’s a burning word heard by birds that the chorus refuses to sing and get involved with things, so please grab a knife before they turn the story into a movie, and please guard the time in a light that used to be seen, if you’re close to it like I’m close to you sometimes the focus will stutter in a room, if you’re the only one that this is happening to, Mrs. Ford sends her regards: “I loved ya near the end and I’ve loved ya from the start” Sgt. Pepper and the Night Time Band, we all quit when he started touching hands and no one wants to hear any sympathy, cause its harder for us to be outside and have to hear the light or the door outside the light, cause Sgt. Pepper and the helping hands are moving into the back room, and there won’t always be someone there if they can’t pay up front, through their dried out lips the phrasing for it drips out, “We’re here for the holidays forever now, we’re here for as long as we are (I’m here for what I did)”, and the youngest one begins to grin at me and Sgt. Pepper’s barely thought out plan
In an empty auditorium there are no seats left, cause they’re all being held for future babies. Your husband doesn’t even look like me, but everyone wants to sit next me. The way that I feel is slowly grabbing the wheel out from under me, I’m just a grown woman’s baby.


Recorded 2006-2009
Photograph by Amy Moon


released February 8, 2020


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