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The Barn

by IDYLLS

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09:32

credits

released September 29, 2017

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IDYLLS Brisbane, Australia

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Track Name: No Virility
Would that I could love your way, shame would fall away on to the rocks beneath the precipice, evil overcame. Would that I could move the body like a symphony, hold an audience like a church, shift between sheets like an unfettered fuckmachine. Urgent need and melancholic and redemptive love,urgently giving myself to the only earthly sanctuary. I could be measured against the weight of the cannon by the thrust and gravitational pull of the body. Would that I could liberate myself by an act of will, I would without question but as it stands I am locked and lost in a land without romance or music. Learning to breathe and one day to die, surviving each moment and finding others in the fray - moments and people disqualified by wrongful priorities and failed attempts; but if modernity has made me impotent then so be it, we'll proceed accordingly, I got things on my mind and people to see. So you won't catch me walking down the main street, you can find me in the back with love in my teeth, tension unreleased with unproductive grief, yeah and I'll be doin' other things. You can have the fucking future you can occupy the now but I'll be doing other things. I'll be working on myself, and I'll be doing it good and right, yeah I'll be doing.
Other.
Track Name: Neuroqueering On Shift
Fluid, flawed, fog-fucked body truant, the truth an abstract vagrant etching fault lines on the
salted ducts of my face. Is the earth crying out mountains, are the clouds drowning in the sky?
Does the vapour echo loud in front or behind of my wandering eyes? Do the waves crash on in
the clamour of the mind, and what is hindrance; what is wasted in a second, or in a wasteland,
and why am I concerned? Why do I stare longingly in wasted time at the sea and sky that know
no haste, for when the earth dies it will just be silent and not afraid but for now I sit lost in
abstractions, projecting translations related to discovering myself in the rocks and the bones
and the sand. But there aint no answers in zeros and ones anyway. Fluid, flawed, fog-fucked
body truant, the truth an abstract vagrant etching fault lines on the salted ducts of my face.
Track Name: Learnt young
Drifting on waves, starved of time and moonless tides; oceans carved out of a child in the wake
of your violent cosmogony. There is a true person of no rank that flows in and out of the holes in
your face and dreams of teeth will teach what the child don't know; and fields of grief will reap
what a man did sow; and shame will feed the body, watch it grow. Drifting on waves, starved of
time and moonless tides. Soil distortion, shifting out the poison to reclaim - no darkness is safe
from dawns of change
Track Name: On My Chopping
So real, such legible sorrow, a sordid absorption, a lowly manifesto of being alone and at home
in the loneliness. Oh, problematic, cloaked in neurosis, I know this. And despite all the speed
and the distance; still worried and pathetic. And in spite of all the cultural progression; still
worried and pathetic. With a face like the moon, sorry, staring at the turning face of the blue;
longing, yearning, pulling waves and wombs, things that stir on distant planetary systems. And I
do not know authenticity; still worried and pathetic. And survival is just surviving; still worried and
pathetic. In vulgar tombs of cliche obsession I exist in flaccid, unerotic obsessions. I don't think I
can decide who I am, or what I want to be, so why don't you tell me? In a digital age, everything
is information and there's no excuse to not heal yourself to embody the perfection of health.
Exorcise your shame, cut it out, still worried and pathetic. Empathy meets poetry but you're still
worried and pathetic. Exorcise your shame, cut it out, still worried and pathetic. Place yourself
beyond doubt, but you're pathetic
Track Name: Muck And Vulnerability
Well it's a long way down, you gotta crawl through the mud if you want to breathe, and if you
want to breathe I understand if you had to crawl away from me. And if I never got sick I would
be doing it better, and if I never got sick I would have never got sick.
Track Name: Maslows Dogs
Despite medical miracles they were more ill, more pills, foreclosed happiness mills. Drip fed
benzo dreams, milk of human kindness, a sedative narrative, a story of glorified, categorised,
corporate bodies; man, woman, freedom machine, entropic entrepreneurs, hard-working
gym-junky job-hunting gods under duress for success. There's no shelter at home, there's no life
left alone. So the hidden thing remained hidden, pawing at the bone cage within like a padded
cell wall of inanimate matter: corporeal capital to be manipulated, managed while inside the
patient watches, patiently abiding. Committed by a sick committee, psychologically violent manic
tyrants confine it to solitude, silence, inner wandering - a wise and wild unknowing underling
watching while they hold it down, watching while they drown it in denial. Erase it, reform it, fear
and revile but still it refuses to die, and they could feel it watching with unclouded eyes. So they
bound the feet of clouds and the sky limped by on broken feet, and it rained down bits of every
lie; they washed their face pieces of their unkind smile. Now there's no place left to fill 'cus the
crucible has spilled. And it seemed like they were never gonna get beyond it. Never further,
never deeper, never anymore complete; and they feared the thought that they weren't in the
centre of it anymore. So they fled to sleep and the money held them down. They had to sleep
with the money, their dreams went ha-ha.
Track Name: Choke Opportunity
I've got it perfect; my first family home, and I'm always happy to give my money to a good
cause, 'cus I'm a good guy [private violence]. I'm minding the store, yeah I own the fucking joint
and even my nervous breakdowns are productive. I'm mindfully observing my own personal
psychosis, 'cus I'm a good guy
Track Name: Glare From The Shallow Basin
Without speaking, explain to me your need. Without falling, dive off backwards. Without
knowing, mould me explicit and essential. I move through selves like the rich do property, and I'll
see plenty more before I'm through. I am simply not a genuine person, but there are not any
genuine people. How long must we go on policing the borders of anachronistic maps of
personhood? What good is the myth of an enterprising self when we are suffocating everything?
Without speaking, explain to me your need.
Track Name: In The Barn
Some say it started in the body, others in the mind, but I can't love you like a man baby. So I
learned to push it down, suck it in deep; I can only love you like I don't know what kind of a
woman I am. Violent semantics ingrained by threats of abandonment. Wrong fucking body.

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