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lyrics

Once, in a cupboard, the fortunes of the damned were kept.
The precipice was telling the doorman where they both had slept.
And then a warlock's wife remembered when
she'd seen the darkest practice riding on the sunset's slip.

Who could say?
It might have been a team of bank robbers.
Who could say?
There's only so much snake oil you can sell to dreamers.
Put down some money and run the table with your coarse, coarse hands.
Who can say? Who can say?

Little mermaids redesigning borders of sky.
Cutting corners the value drops and spills purple dye.
All over the faces are all washed in blood
and all the mourners rediscover what excited a flood ...

of tears, of Halifax, of drive-ins
decapitated and rearranged;
a brood of flying fingers
and the palm prints of the strange.

Who could say?
It might have been a house of children interred.
Who could say?
There's a bandage on the wrist of the flower girl you burned.
Put down some soul, honey, and ruin the fable with your long dead hands.
Who can say? Who can say?

Moldy scrapbooks in a cardboard box for two
made into picnics for the one who's supervising you.
Paper shreds, headlines tangle at the coming of the light.
Don't lose your heads.
You might be in the fog of a needle's blight.

credits

from Adventures In No​-​Fi, track released January 1, 2015

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about

Frederick Julius Omaha, Nebraska

Frederick Julius is underground, lo-fi pop music that conjures the vital sound of early Beach Boys records with lyrics that are visual experiments in the surreal. Each title in the ever-growing Frederick Julius catalogue is written and recorded by Matt Geiler in his sleepy bedroom studio, dubbed The Wonder Room, in Los Angeles, CA. ... more

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