Sympathia Malevolens

by Marlena

supported by
Matthew Bird
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Matthew Bird Sounds like a dufflebag filled with sex meats. Favorite track: Cheap Perfume.
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Color 4-panel digipacks produced in November of 2014. Artwork by Marlena and Ron Wells. Design by Marlena. Shrink-wrapped.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Sympathia Malevolens via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days

      $8 USD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

    Includes high quality image (jpg) files of all album art and lyrics. You should buy the real CD, anyway ;)

      $6 USD  or more

     

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05:19
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06:22
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03:35
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08:04
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02:38
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credits

released December 6, 2014

Joshua Harvey - Guitars, Vocals
Matt Brim - Drums
Jon Califf - Bass, Vocals

Recorded by Marlena at Portland Cement Building
Mastered by Nicholas T. Petersen at Track and Field

Marlena's Facebook:
www.facebook.com/marlenaband

Contact:
lazycricket@gmail.com

Listen to/buy Joshua's former solo project:
liltmusic.bandcamp.com

Joshua's former band:
allandsundry.bandcamp.com/releases

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Marlena Portland, Oregon

Marlena is a solace space. We have collaborated to make our music since 2011.

contact / help

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Track Name: Sympathia Malevolens
1. Sympathia Malevolens

I’ve always desired a wholeness that we pretend.
To move past and beyond a flickering attention span.
But Schelling’s System is a strong cup of tea.
You’ll forget who you were like the dregs from the leaves,
but you’ll take back your dreams from the memes on the switchboard
who dictate your will and the space between the poles
of right and wrong and how things should be:
Quixotic, brutal, and free.

Have you ever seen the wind cut through your body
Possessed and shorn of our warmth in ourselves?
The mimic becomes your nerves and your conscience,
blown from the word, the switchboard, the poles.

But can I take your hand?
I’ve listened to the way you answer the void long enough.
Use the tools but don’t nail down your hands.

Don’t leave me here with all these clonic vultures
with only half the answers.
I’ll turn my insides out.

I spent my childhood being afraid
of a monster without a face or hands but who touched me just the same.
And now I see him clear for the first time,
and sympathia malevolens is written down his spine.
And now I don’t mind being afraid.
Track Name: The Real
2. The Real

Don’t worry, we’re in control.
The real won’t harm you.
Just cover your head,
and wear your mask.

Well, I’m going to the water’s edge,
and I’m going to the reactor’s core.

Our babies are coming out
with eyes that see the real.

Don’t fret. We’re here to serve you.
Your needs are ours.
Just choose your martyr
and man this drone.

Well, I’m going to those children’s graves.
Let their blood wash over me.

Our babies are coming out
with eyes that see the Real.
I won’t let you burn them out.
Nothing left to be concealed.
Track Name: Underwater
3. Underwater

And I’ll keep this voice alive underwater.
Far away from cellphone hiss and cannon fodder.
And all you fuckers won’t be missed,
nor your martyrs in uniform.
Not even Christ will forgive what you did,
and I’ll be glad when your number is called.

And it’s a strange thing that it may never be called.
It was the easel that painted the throne.

And I swear I won’t look away when you stare at me.
A hundred to one I’ve seen the end to your means;
You’ve nothing to teach me.
Except how to feign a sense of control
On a burning blind carousel.
At least you look good poised on that pole
while the waterline is rising up.

And it’s a strange thing that you’re so ready to drown.
It was the easel that painted the crown.
Track Name: The Garden
4. The Garden

Don’t look down.
My dear lady, you’re falling.
Don’t look up.
My dear man, it’s nothing
but the blood and desire of your sisters.

But didn’t you expect anyone to hit the bottom?
If I could cease to fall, I’d trade my martyr’s blood for a child’s.

Don’t look down.
My holy father I’m crawling though the dirt
and gravel of your garden
where I found, underneath a tree in a shadow,
a child’s toy that fit together like a puzzle.

But didn’t you expect anyone to hit the bottom?
If I could cease to fall, I’d trade my martyr’s blood for a child’s.
Track Name: Cheap Perfume
6. Cheap Perfume

In a cold office room,
I learned my soul was cheap perfume,
and my smile a salesman’s line,
and my love a childish crime for which
I’d be sued and used.

And I feel like I’m living in some bad cartoon
where the words kill the people and the symbols rule.
Track Name: Traffic Lights
7. Traffic Lights

I’m getting tired, and you’re asleep.
The computer is on, and the traffic lights blink.
Out in the woods, there’s a place
where the robots gather so they can find their peace.

They walk to the mall where there’s no air,
and they try to buy some flowers
to put on top their hair.
But they’re getting tired, and you’re asleep.
The computer is on, and the traffic lights blink.

I’m still waiting for you to cut it off.

But I’m getting tired.
Track Name: The Shallows
8. The Shallows

You frame our love.

Your field of vision is not as wide as you think.
Your control is an illusion.

After all, you could have been born in the country.
Wouldn’t that strip away the shallows?

Your frame is you.

Your life is a collection of superficial judgment.
Your culture is yourself.
Track Name: The Fox
9. The Fox

Go to sleep my chosen one.
I’ll sing you a song about a fox
whose tooth had gone dry for the taste of blood.

He slid under the fence and stood with his white friends
and rubbed up against their product skin.
He said, “I’ll help you bury your heart.
I’ll help you bury your head.
I’ll help you bury your own death.”
Track Name: From a Conscience White
10. From a Conscience White

I’m caught in a landslide of agreeable ash
pouring out of your mouths.
We’re all talented dancers avoiding the cracks
Of what’s revealed in our thoughts.

But not a day too soon,
I’ll retreat from this room.
My feet rise off the ground:
Release in honest sound.

But when you close your eyes,
I’ll be inside.