Close Types EP

by Telyscopes

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wilmington on friday night drank old crow until dawn murphy's dogs wouldn't let us sleep and there was sand all over my fucking car i had never seen the south before and i've seen enough of it now we laughed to death, we smoked to death we sang to death and we went to bed when it goes there won't be a single thing left of you when it's gone nothing can ever replace all of your damaged DNA i stole your lighter and played your songs and i pushed you in the dirt i hope you never let your babies listen to nothings or listen to anything i was the king of nothing my hair thinned on the crown woke up five years later with ocean water rushing over my head another year another drop it never slows down it never stops when it goes it'll go with every piece you had when it's gone time is real estate you can't buy back when it goes nothing can ever replace it's just damaged DNA
white car coasting up the driveway sleep another year early sunday funeral procession sleep another year i have inherited nothing but madness and baldness and sadness and years and years next week I'll be seventeen and I'll sleep another year i had to roll when i found out i hit the bottom and climbed back out now the poster child is dead i am the patron saint of lying in bed how does it feel to be under the wing of something bigger than yourself? it's a bird stealing food from a beggars mouth, the rich get richer and hollow us out i have inherited nothing but madness and baldness and sadness and years and years next week I'll be twenty three and years and years and years and years and i had to roll when i found out i hit the bottom and climbed back out and now the poster boy has said i am the patron saint of early death will you ever learn? you forget so easily how does it feel to be under the wing of something bigger than yourself? jesus christ is a broken mirror i only want to see myself leave me alone but don't forsake me all these years and years and years
get yourself together you've been hanging by a thread and there is no use pretending, no use singing for the dead we are the gold filling in the rotten tooth is man the golden stacks of cash that line the train car coming loose now that you've found it, you'll know it's not what you had wanted but when you are without it, you'll stop at nothing till you've found it, hound it don't pass me by, don't look me head on sit down and relax, we will bloom and be gone i'll give you a wink and send you away from ticking bombs who tell you not to pray write me a symphony of gold that i can hang on my wall above the fireplace that burns my failed notations like scores of molten children twist and squirm above the flame that rises high above the rooftops where the whole town can he me mourn and sing: now that i've found it i know it's not what i had wanted but I can't shake it off it follows me, it's become me, it is my shadow.
friends all spoke and relatives choked the casket open wide they reached out hands and whimpered prayers to my body tucked inside find me a place to stand between a pattern and a name mother must have sinned when you were younger father took his life goddamn the man who sleeps in gutters and still holds his head up high on request they cued his record but nothing played
scarecrow i've been hollowed out hung by a pole black moths swarm around my hands and draw stars in dirt but I can't pile up this soil to make adam out of earth khafre built the great sphinx and declared himself a god but was he the same as you and i? corrupted by life and terrified to die? funeral in the bleeding rain slither up the curb these same hands that pulled you from the womb will drop you back into a hole will you visit my stone on your old-man cane and arthritic hips just to leave a bouquet? and will there be a witty remark on my grave, like "we'll be wackin again," or will anyone that ever knew me have already faded into obscurity along with all the words and notes I ever sang in a dusty* box in someone's basement lost on cassette we're just two of a kind, you and i corrupted by life and here we are here we are red table cloth, only fake flowers, painted flowers, fill the church with their perfume. hear me, help me, save me the walls surrounded they blow their awful trumpets hear us, help us, save us our walls surrounded, they blow their awful trumpets when they get their hands on my flesh they will hang me


close types we are style scopes
we are close types we are
style scopes are stely c
opes typ
es scope type close tely
scope types close typ


released October 27, 2018

An EP by Jack Hubbell except:
Alexander Aultman - additional layers, drums, and mixing on "Damaged DNA"
Chris Caulder - acoustic piano on "Now That I've Found It"
Patty Hamill - drums on "Drown"

Special thanks to Adam Privette for photoshopping my incoherent doodles into something more aesthetic


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Telyscopes Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Weird music you can take bath salts and get naked to. Sometimes lo-fi and sometimes not.

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