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Epithet, The Epithet

by A Yawn Worth Yelling

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1.
Applause, applause to the elegance Of obsessing over its elements. Like a cold knife to butter-- Rise like body of water When you're sipping your rum. Sometimes I'm crazy in love With the thing you'll become. If you think you're unhealthy It's always hit and miss Cause if you don't think of it Then it doesn't exist. But you don't think like that, 'Cause you're the wool and the linen Sunday apples and jeans The salty sand on the boardwalk The terracotta and greens Which stretches to Palm Desert Over a rovering clover Sob'ring my fields of thoughts If you think you've forgotten Then you already forgot. Because my strings do tend to ravel and unwind, I made a pact to do good and be kind. But now I find my sacred rest in what I couldn't find inside my mind. Now it's time the end to face the means, For things are most forgotten in the in-between. The gothic wave of tiredness eloped a movement in the crashing scene. Epithet, the epithet-- You feel the heat in the summer, And the love in the fall, And the lonely in winter, And the spring will recall All the feelings you have felt. It bled into your paintings In the passing of years An apparition of color A blind Orion of tears. Which always stains my clothes. It turns into my laundry Which my mother still cleans Though she don't get to see My tired face for weeks. You can't undermine its call When it speeds to your doorstep And keeps spitting half-truths All dressed up in a bowtie With black slacks and black suits. It's a mystery to us all; Like voodoo dolls in a cornfield. Like my sister's dad. Like my brother in prison. Like my new mother sad. Figure it out on your own. From what I've learned from astronomy, You'll get to know the things you'll never get to see. It's quiet now across the blasphemic sky. But we lay awake in sparks that shoot too high. The holy flame across my face did sear my lips and blind me in both eyes. I'm searching for some hint, or clue, or sign That my whole life will leave something worthwhile behind. But when my body leaves this place, I'll still remain beside these words of mine. Watch me run! C'mon! C'mon! C'mon! They told me when I was a boy To write every thing Mangum said down. I was their scribe, I was indescribable.

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credits

released December 22, 2012

All music & lyrics by A Yawn Worth Yelling
Brayden Deskins, Johannes Heine, Tyler Boyd, Taylor Stover and Joseph Pisacane

Engineered and mixed by Johannes Heine and Brayden Deskins
Additional engineering by Zack Ohren at Castle Ultimate Studios
Additional engineering by Tom Watts
Violin tracked by Connor Eagleton
Saxophone tracked by Josh Hettwer
Piano tracked by Rex Darnell
Album art by Johannes Heine

For booking and all other inquiries, please email ayawnworthyelling@gmail.com

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A Yawn Worth Yelling San Jose, California

We're putting the "angst" back in "gangsta".

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