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BIG CRUMBLE

from SONGS OF ISOLATION by Blue Hole

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lyrics

You know, each day just seems like another listless heartbeat
In a cyclical system pumping lifeblood to the harpies
When the night comes I mark another tally off with a sharpie
Popping sunshine in a bottle, walking around with the rest of the zombies

I feel like a Kennedy, I’m the Sirhan to my Bobby
It’s 4 AM and I’m lurching through this fucking dim lit lobby
The front desk woman looks like she’s just seen a ghost
As I kick the caked mud off my boots outside on the post

It’s bitter cold, my breath like cigarette smoke
I feign grief easier than I deserve credit for
I’m homesick in winter, just sick in spring
Find where nothing belongs and start sticking things

In that spot, this paycheck is all that I’ve got
When I’m back home I’m nothing, a boiled over pot
Of confusion and stress, I’m oozing with boredom
A fusion of dull personalities I’ve learned

In this grand illusion, grand and soothing
I lose, my right hand touches my heart
And I lie to the coward taking words at face value
In the mirror, and scraping his skin with a towel

Grand disillusion, woozy I stumble
I woke up late again, I am not good with numbers
You had me all wrong, I'm less rough and more tumble
A feast of small crumbs just to watch the big crumble

“It’s me” I answer softly, I stand in your doorway
Right after I barrel through a red light in the 4-way
My company’s disowned me, I languish in your porch shade
The screen door creaks open, streaking light on the floor

Letting us down easy has never been their forte and
They’ve shown in the past their great distaste for foreplay
I am lying facedown, breathing dust off the carpet
Your eyes do not sparkle and these blinds are not starlit

The sun creeps in like a spotlight to find all the dust floating
Thick in the air like a cloud, like a musk
I cry out like a mouse, “i am all alone”
And I’m stuck to the bounds of your ringing house phone

Out your door I am standing again, heartbroken
I don’t know how to keep these words from going unspoken
I offer you breath, as a gift, as a token
Try not to shy away, It’s so hard to be open in this

In this grand illusion, grand and soothing
I lose, my right hand touches my heart
And I lie to the coward taking words at face value
In the mirror, and scraping his face with a towel

Grand disillusion, woozy I stumble
I woke up late again, I am not good with numbers
You had me all wrong, I'm less rough and more tumble
A feast of small crumbs just to watch the big crumble

credits

from SONGS OF ISOLATION, released October 1, 2021

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Blue Hole Lynden, Washington

A one man project creating a unique brand of transcendental astral pop existing beyond the boundaries of convention, Blue Hole is auditory bliss conceived for the purpose of mind expansion and hallucinatory replication/substitution.

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