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Feathers

by Steven Wagler

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1.
It's now, and never again. Run it down or make your amends. All of your hours up to, and after, this hang on this moment. Is it fate or are you yours? Bear the weight and find your voice. This taste of existence, bookended by the void, how can we waste it? when it feels like time is an engine running wild in the night... Make more than dust of this light, and feast on ambrosia, or dull in your wonted resign and watch as it leaves you behind. Do you feel from within or out? Hear the wind or your young heart pound? It's something so ancient and yet undeniably now... a fire still burning. Is it now? Are you present here? Can you sing despite all your fear? This taste of existence is sweeter when you're near, so please don't waste it. and it feels like time is an engine running wild in the night... Make more than dust of this light, and feast on ambrosia, or dull in your wonted resign and watch as it leaves you behind.
2.
What if we had known that night that we were going home together... that I would make you laugh for the last time and you would wave goodbye forever? Could we have done much more in hindsight? Would anything have changed for better? I'd have shared that cigarette outside and said a little less of the weather. It always feels like my heart and my head take turns behind the wheel. What I feel I can't understand, and what I know I just can't seem to feel... And I'm caught in the aisle, somewhere between, where nothing means anything. And it feels like revival and I'm chewing my cheek just to keep from screaming for you. 'Cause what would it do? If I'm out calling for you, what would it prove? Another broken bone, misset, that everyone notices you favor. But every now and then you forget and it almost starts to feel better... But do you really feel better? Or is it denial? Or that place between where you repeat it until you believe, and call it survival? And you bend your truth til it covers you... It always feels like my heart and my head take turns behind the wheel. What I feel I can't understand, and what I know I just can't seem to feel... And I'm caught in the aisle, somewhere between, where nothing means anything. And it feels like revival and I'm chewing my cheek just to keep from screaming for you. I'll say it now before it's over, I'll tell you now before it's over, I love you now and when it's over, I'll live without until it happens again.
3.
Solid Days 03:57
Had a pretty solid day, nothing really happened. No monumental change, still relatively happy. Had a pretty solid day, but some might call it tragic, or depressingly mundane, maybe even wish they had it. I like to think that I'm okay, but sometimes I can't breathe at the thought of all the waste... Otherwise I'm good, I found this song I kinda love, it's so honest, and if I'm honest, I've kinda leveled out, and that's good enough for now just grounded... and I hope you've found it too. Had a pretty solid day, some of it had us laughing, got to hear about your day and bitch about the traffic. Had a pretty solid day, none of it really mattered, and maybe that's a waste but I like that it happened. I like to think that I'm okay, but sometimes I can't sleep at the thought of what awaits.... Otherwise I'm good, I found this song I kinda love, it's so honest, and if I'm honest, I've kinda leveled out, and that's good enough for now just grounded... and I hope you've found it too. You're worthy of the same love that you've been given, show yourself the same trust that you put in 'em, and cut yourself some slack, pat your own fucking back and spend some time on yourself without feeling so bad. 'Cause I don't miss the old you, I just fucking miss you, and in spite of all you go through, I really hope one day you can say Otherwise I'm good, I've gotta this song I kinda love, it's so honest, and if I'm honest, I've kinda leveled out, and that's good enough for now just grounded... yeah I guess I've found it too.
4.
I barely slept, my head just spun, I briefly dreamt of some future to come. Adrift on a boat on a deep, dark sea, crying and choking on a fit of my grief. Resigned to this lonely fate; to watch as the waves dragged you away. And all I could do was shake, and beg myself, again, for help that I knew too well to await. "Don't sing. Just listen. Are you listening?" The sky stretched out, an endless gray of unbroken cloud but the storm never came. Time stood still, but still things changed, swell after swell but gray all the same. Unaware until far too late... it had all been replaced but the way that ya sang. And all I could do was shake, and beg myself again for help that I knew too well to await... "Don't sing. Just listen. Are you listening?"
5.
Bear It Down 04:15
You've got scars from the hooks you swallowed, the stars you followed, the Gods you praised... What you can't run from, what you know will follow, what left you hollow and ashamed but, Steady now, if ya stay the course, if ya heard it once, ya heard it a million times before and You've seen it play out, gotta find a way out, If your head's fried, if you're bled dry, if your tether is severed, more dead than alive... If your heart's out, if your heart's out, break it, or bear it, or bear it down. Truth is a fresh till in ground gone fallow, under a sky gone yellow; no sign of rain... Hope is an old song that sometimes echoes in through your window in that old refrain, singin... Steady now, if ya stay the course, if ya heard it once, ya heard it a million times before and You've seen it play out, gotta find a way out, If your head's fried, if you're bled dry, if your tether is severed, more dead than alive... If your heart's out, if your heart's out, break it, or bear it, or bear it down. Bear it down.
6.
Feathers 03:47
You tie your tie and you thumb the stain, then out your window all the blackbirds sing it's a song you remember but they all sound the same... still theres' a picture and the smell of the lake. And the feeling's a fracture in your fragile veneer, it's safe in your memory but it's can't be here. You can still kinda see her in the water by the bank but the scent of your coffee forces it all out of frame. The DJ's laughing through your morning commute, he's trying to be clever but it's not coming through. You scan the airwaves to keep out of your head but faint through the static you can hear it coming in. Now you're lying in a hallway and it's coming through the walls, she sleeps on her jacket, all your friends sing along. You can still taste the whiskey, you can feel the menthol, but the jump of the station spans hundreds and hundreds of Days, like feathers ripped from your back, (to fill her mattress) Lay as your embers fade red to black, (in your bed of ashes) Wait, it's better than it sounds like that. You rub your eyes, look away from the screen, but out your window there ain't nothing to see. You trade your daylight for so many things it's hard to distinguish the wants from the needs. Now you're right where you should be, you're keeping the pace up. Some melancholy is expected with age. But the call of the blackbird still rings through your cage, and you'll never shake it so you chase it to the end of your [CHORUS] Now you're as blue as the ribbon that hangs in your father's spare bedroom. He says, "Sometimes there's more joy in the chase than whatever it wins you." The subtext upends you as the curtain fell too far down.... (and you need it now)
7.
She found a corset in some dying outlet mall, she bummed a record from her older brother's beat friend Paul. She dyed her hair black, she dyed her whole world black, took up smoking, and sulking, and scoffing, and chanting all matter of fact: "666, mark your body for the devil. I'm so sick sick sick of you casual frauds. 666 belongs to heavy metal, not you Alt Rock jocks... you ruined it, you're doin it wrong." He found an old kit in his burned-out uncle's loft, he studied Carcass, and Slayer, and Vader; learned every song. He dyed his hair black, he dyed his whole world black, ditched his old scene for piercings, and half-sleeves, and chanting all matter of fact: "666, mark your body for the devil. I'm so sick sick sick of you casual frauds. 666 belongs to heavy metal, not you Pop-Punk goths... you ruined it, you're doin it wrong." Crucifixes, all dipped in red, hang upside-down on their bedroom walls. Superstitious, and Southern Baptist, mom and dad pace the adjacent hall... waiting for an open door to say, "It's 616, read a book, get on our level. We're so sick, sick, sick, of your shopping mall frauds. 666 is scary-movie evil and they sold you all, and you bought it, you bought it, you bought it all... 666, mark your body for the devil. We're so sick, sick, sick of you calling out 'fraud.' 666 belongs to heavy metal and us one and all, the Dark Lord will have us all."
8.
Take Care 04:22
Take a shower. Throw on some clothes you like and do your hair. Clip your nails. Sweep your floors. Change your sheets. Open a window. Take a walk, and get some sun. Take out the trash while you're at it. And on your walk, think of the last time you loved doing anything and go do it again. Just get out of bed, right now. Get out of bed right now. Get out of bed right now and you can do it. Call your mom. Call someone you care about and let them know. Take deep breaths and see yourself for more than who you've been. Tell the truth. If you can't fix you, you've got to tell the truth and find someone who can. You're not a mess that needs cleaning, you're not a burden, believe it. Come back around again. Just get out of bed, right now. Get out of bed right now. Get out of bed right now and you can do it.
9.
If I could write somewhere between 'integrity' and 'chic obscene', you might find me interesting, and I might not see everything I sing as so dull and stale... and predictably cheap. If I could just age happily, ignore the thread that pulls in me, I could get drunk socially without chasing the point of collapsing. I could be fun and so far from the brink. But it's not me. It's just not me. Is there no repair, no rewiring this broken machine? If I could just be brave and true, take my stand against abuse, argue for my point of view, I might not hate myself the way I do. I might feel strong and worthy of you. If I could just say honestly, without feeling naked and weak, "I love you for who you are to me." My friends my feel more like my family, and my family might feel closer to me. But it's not me. It's just not me. Is there no repair, no rewiring this broken machine? Is there no repair, no retiring this broken machine?
10.
There was a time when the guilt from this kind of mistake would've left me gutted, would've kept me awake. Now it's a sunburn, a distant alarm; never goes away but never hits too hard. And it got lonely like you said it would. So I'm driving all night just to try and feel good. And I'm sorry as I ever was. So I'm driving all night away from what I done. I'm driving all night from who I've become. Another sad song with the windows down. For a moment I know it could all turn around. But the truth, for the silence, patiently waits... and empties my heart as the stations change. And it got lonely like you said it would. So I'm driving all night just to try and feel good. And I'm sorry as I ever was. So I'm driving all night away from what I done. I'm driving all night from who I've become. Driving all night, driving all night, just driving. Close your eyes and try to recall the warmth of the campfire light last fall. The songs you sang and the stories told, yeah, 'I hope I die before I get old.' Driving all night, driving all night, just driving.

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released February 11, 2020

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Steven Wagler Albuquerque, New Mexico

Midwesterner that grew up in punk and cover bands just writing and recording when time and opportunity allow.

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