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Self​-​Love

by Trough

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1.
It Eats 03:14
Feed an apple to the coffin, that big jawed horse. Sugar cube in your hand... Tall white teeth crunch. You do it to get what you want. You do it to get what you need. You do it for a purpose, and it's making me nervous. Flattering. Dissembling Lying and lying. They built this coffin out of self-love, and called it a son. Beneath the smile there’s a body nailed down and screaming. Like a sick building sheds insulation, asbestos leaves his mouth. Such nice compliments. You do it to get what you want. You do it to get what you need. You do it for a purpose, and it's making me nervous. Screaming. Howling. Crying and crying. A coffin whose teeth are always chewing its splinters in your eyes. It eats and eats the house, the stairs, the mirrors and the flies. So stand and watch the hearse go by. Stand and watch the coffin roll by. The sun inflamed as a tooth; all the sugar rotted its youth. The coffin sucks the whole sun dry, the obsessive sucks the whole sun dry. Isn't this their youth?
2.
It started in the crawlspace below the house. A figure stooping and listening to the sound of footsteps above. “They planned it, they planned it...” Eyes on my skin. It proceeded with a window left ajar. Figure in shadow and eyes that gleamed like a cat’s, that gleamed like a... “They planned it, they planned it…” Eyes on my skin. Your neighbors rob you Their best friends watch you Oh I've seen what they did When you stepped away. Your bones’d dance in your skin.
3.
Splice 03:21
Over the hills it's dark. A crow-calls. (It's dark). The ground black and wet, so ripe in this park. You spent years in shrouds of your own making. Loving death, hating life, immured in memory, expecting a catastrophe. (It's dark). (Erupting from the sunlight, an emesis of shadow, your bones dripped clear in spring, green as a fire of algae, blue as a flood, the birds come out of your eyes, the crows come out of your eyes.) But it's not the same as it once was.
4.
Oxyana 03:13
Waking, sleeping, What is the fucking difference? Slowly rising In the cold morning I feel The tremor in my hands The blankness in my head The slowing of my heart It's a dead end, It's just a dead end. Drinking, popping, These fill the minutes I got Left, cursed, Tasteless as the death of my Whole family that I loved My soul sucked out of me I'm snorting crushed up leaves Oxyana is the tree It's a dead end, It's just a dead end.
5.
Hello, how are you? I've got a picture I'd like you to see: it's your corpse hanging from the ceiling when you were seventeen. Is it any wonder you started giving in? You ate rotten days and spewed sad crap Into the fucking bin. Pins and needles. Dissociation. Social media: your evacuation. A thoughtless bastard is no aberration. Hello, how are you? You know you spent your life being used? Blabberwockies spat in your ear, you didn't once refuse. Is it any wonder you're shedding HSV? At least someone fucked you when You were leaking misery. Pins and needles. Dissociation. Your nullity causes dysfunctional ejaculation. You wasted your life: congratulations. You drank empty days and you pissed your life.
6.
Them French 02:30
7.
Real Bodies 02:53
A dead child, a drowned child, chillblains, wet stones, slow canal, dead water - are called forth: Come forth. Enter this room and stand. You fell from the bridge into the darkness of the water. And you will make us see with eyes of moss; bruised black and tossed, raincloud and silt, by this coprolith they built. Ghosts are in the mouth. Dreams are in the mouth. So stand in this room. And you will draw near, as ectoplasm over our face, as a piano key striking suddenly. The discarded boy, so much refuse in the slimy river - is called forth, come forth. They shot the husband. They shot his wife. They shot the roses. Ghosts are in the mouth.
8.
Beef 03:19
Why don't you just castrate me? Throw me down and stone me. Why don't you humiliate me? I want to be debased. You're a lazy nihilist and juvenile dumbass. They've opened up your skull to let out the ghosts And stuff em in a hole, so they don't fly out dreaming of things you can't have while they're out preening their wings so shiny, your life without meaning. You gave your heart away for comfort, didn't you? You gave your tongue away for comfort, didn't you? You gave your spleen away for comfort, didn't you? You gave your eyes away for comfort, didn't you? Why don't you just castrate me? Throw me down and stone me.
9.
I can't see a thing... Sound of dresses tearing Round my head, swirling. This house keeps shadows in its pockets just like knives: A stranger summons me to attend their side. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't move. I'm trying to talk, my mouth is frozen shut with cloth. Dust rising in a cloud, windows thick with moths. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't speak. The sound of bells in the fields Morning dew on the sills My tongue is dead in my throat This house has a cistern. That gate is always closed. That gate is always closed.
10.
11.
No reflection, no feeling, Just drunk in the coffin. The sun has gone down, Buried beneath a stone. Trilce, trilce... My hands are cold and wet, And fear chews my brain. The borders are closing. The rain won't stop falling. They're ripping and tearing The house I grew up in like the plain of jars in fucking Vietnam. Burning and gashing A hole in my dad’s throat. My hands are cold and wet, And fear chews my brain. The borders are closing. The rain won't stop falling. They're ripping and tearing The house I grew up in like the plain of jars in fucking Vietnam. Burning and gashing A hole in the ocean. A hole in your 401k. Hey, it's their tune - let's go dancing. Let's go dancing.
12.

credits

released May 29, 2019

Guitar: Andrew Lopez
Vocals: Matthew Hackney
Bass Guitar: Alexander Wolf-Lord
Drums: Daniel Harlan

Woodwinds/Strings: Performed specially by Robert William Magill
Various other instruments performed by members of Trough.

Special Thanks to Quentin Jeanroy for vocal contribution to "Them French"

Engineered and Mixed by Andrew Oswald at Santo Studios in Oakland, CA

Mastered by Bob Weston at Chicago Mastering Service

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Trough Oakland, California

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