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I Get A Kick Out Of Jokes

by Encourager

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I don't wanna turn back and see a ghost where your face used to be, cause I won't know what to believe. It's true, I've got nothing left of you but resentment and some therapy. Still I wish, oh, that you could scratch the itch that your hasty exit left in me. It's a funeral for you and for me. Being buried alive isn't as bad as it seems. I'm digging out, I'm moving on. You said almost nothing to me. I heard what I thought it should be cause I wanted just to believe. It's false, and even though I gave it all I could never call it tragedy. Still I wish, oh, that you had hit the switch a little sooner than you did for me. I don't wanna know what my life would be without you. All I wanna know is where I'm going from here. Yeah, I can take it from here. There's nothing keeping my feet on the narrow just like there never had been. I'm stepping out of the lines that you gave me. You're missing, but I'm not missing you.
I think we may be doomed, but I'm not done with you. I'll be the quo, you be my status. I'm the zero of this disease and it will live and die in me, swallowing the good and shitting madness. I never said I was infallible, everything's malleable and when I said "love" I meant it. If this is chemistry it makes no sense to me and this equation's unfinished. If I'm the poison, are you the antidote I need? Little bird, I had a dream. There was a future for you and me. We had a nest and we were singing. Baby bird, the morning came. I swallowed hard and called out your name. Only heard my voice hitting the ceiling.
I heard you went on vacation together and I hope that it was good. Yeah, I went on vacations too – with her – like we never could, like you wished we would. Every day feels like a departure. We're taking off and we're getting on with it. Two flights, two passengers with matching baggage, his and hers, and it's torture. If I survive it I may never come back home. My skin cracked in the sun every day for a week. I bled on the sand, a dirty little puzzle piece. The water tasted sweet but it was just plain and cool. I threw up every drink. Rejection never felt so cruel. Now I believe that I have earned it. Below the glowing streets shrink into arteries that pump the concrete blood through the city. Among the building cells, halfway from here to hell, I know he's there with you and it kills me. I sink into my seat and feel the gravity. Pilots and passengers are dreaming landing dreams. We slice into the sky, leaving our lives behind. We will not make it back, there's something on the wing.
I've got a cloud and it hangs around my head, my heart, my brain and mouth. It's black and full of idiot thunder. It fills my thoughts with idiot wonder. "Are we just here to die alone? To fill the ground with heavy bones?" I lay awake most every night. I can't stop it. Roll out, roll out the red carpet, I am the King of Nothing Good. I'm showing up to bring you down. You can't fight it, so don't try it. Give up, give up and get sadder, I always get what I'm after. Your majesty has earned his crown and I'll tear you down. He has a shirt he wears to work. He looks like all the other jerks. Still he gets laid and he feels fine. I drink alone to pass the time. I curse my hands, I curse my bones, I wait to die inside my home. My state decays most every day. I can't stop it. I live my life just like a thief: I steal the joy from girls and boys and what I don't destroy I keep. I am a monster of a man: I terrorize the ones I prize and those that don't escape I eat. I am a monster of a man. You'd better run while you still can. Roll out, roll out the red carpet, I am the King of Nothing Good. I'm showing up to cut you down to small pieces. Give up, give up, and get deader. It's never gonna get better. Your majesty has earned his crown and I'll cut you down.
I got your signal loud and clear, I couldn't miss it. But I'm paralyzed by fear you'll lose my transmission in the constant static and distortion of crossed wires and malfunction. I just wanna know: Are you paralyzed like I'm paralyzed? Am I just an assembly line mistake or was I designed this way? These bolt-on brains make us the same: the latest models in a long line. Mainframe, explain imperfect pattern, plan, and function. I've got this feeling in my chest. It's a rhythmic beating. It's irregular at best but it's never ceasing. Generating power for the circuits, no one taught me how to work it. I just wanna know: Are you paralyzed like I'm paralyzed? Am I just a junk pile refugee or am I what I was meant to be Hello, fellow machines. I hope you're listening to this small voice in this loud world. We are alone but we're alone together. We make magic from the tragic. We are alone, the greatest models in a long time. Mainframe, maintain imperfect pattern, plan, and function. I gotta fight this impulse to tear myself apart, rip out the wires and the dials. I'm not the wisest, I wouldn't know just where to start. So I'll be here for a while. I'll see you and I'll smile cause I'll be here for a while.
I took the 8 into the city, blurred past the tourist traps, the vagrant class, the hookers acting pretty. Replaced your home and made you phony. Now everything is new and you're sniffing glue outside of Pony. Alive: we only feel it when we do or die and we cannot stop living. "I know this guy, let's go get high behind a building." I watched the fixies playing polo. I saw the drag queens crossing Broadway and the junkies wallow. The days are later in the summer. More time committing crimes and doing lines with your step brother. "I know this guy, let's go get high in his apartment. I know a girl who keeps a snake inside her glove compartment. There is a song inside my heart, and it goes..." We're giving you everything. We're empty and all you can say is "more." And what do we get for our everything? Wake up half-naked on the bathroom floor. If I had half a mind I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd pile it up and make a monument to you. I'd stack the promises and the friendships untrue. I'd fill the cracks with all the damage you do. Emerald City, we owe it all to you.
And then Brian says, "I get a kick out of jokes." And then we think it's funny because he does! He, like, really does get a kick out of jokes! Man, those were good times.
And now we understand that things fall through when they're held together with duct tape and glue. So before we dare to prove, yeah, before we make a move, we enter surrender and we are counting on you. This place is a dark cold mess, miles of piles covered in wrecks of excess. And the carpet's worn right through. The cracks are all showing, just know we're counting on you. We're pointing hands at ceilings now in desperate belief. Our attics are collecting the requests for our relief. Divining rods are leading thirsty hands to dig until they bleed and faithfully hide the fear inside 'til they bury everything. The calendar has Xs on almost every single day, but it's at least a few years old now anyway. There's one for every time we tried and failed to never lose, each one a reminder that we are counting on you. This road leads to nothing less than calling for rescue from our self-made distress. And before the day is through, our conviction is showing. You know we're counting on you. We are all terrified to live this life alone. But when light starts to die will we have made it our own? I've got a map and a note you made that says where to go. I've got a lifetime of failure says I can't get there alone. I kicked that map in the river, I'll find a better way home. I'll take my own way home.


released July 25, 2014

I Get a Kick Out of Jokes.
Brian "Papa Bear" Farnsworth played the guitar.
"Real Nathan" McMillan also played the guitar.
"Fake Nathan" Burkhart played the bass guitar.
Christopher Thomas played drums and sang the songs.
They all sang background vocals and made other musical noises and shouted wherever necessary (and sometimes where it wasn't necessary). So did Daisy May Gutierrez.

This recording was engineered and mixed with the finest Swiss craftsmanship by Nathan McMillan. Much to everyone's dismay, no pitch correction or beat detection was used.

There are 8 movie/TV references on this record (give or take). Send us a list of all of them and we'll reward you with a sack of gold! (Gold not included. Sack also not included.)

All songs written by Encourager.

Layout and design created with some kind of crazy magic art powers by the magnanimous Christine Richardson (christinelynnmcmahon.com).

Thanks to bands and venues and friends and family and significant others and pets. Thanks also to the Illuminati, whose sinister and limitless power fuels our nefarious endeavors. Hail, hail! Praise be to the all-seeing eye!


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Encourager Seattle, Washington

5 dudes making music for the kids.

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