Necessary Fiction:
Multo was born of banana leaves and rice beneath.
multomusic@gmail.com
multo is currently unfolding in Seattle, WA
Discourse, history, and common sense.
Indiepages demo of the week for Nov. 19-25, 2007
It rains a lot in Portland; this is exactly the type of music made when the streets and everything you see are wet. Take part Grandaddy and part Aislers Set (particularly the first, darker record) and you have yourself a rather good demo.
articulation:
Since some people asked for some lyrics. And some people keep getting corrected. I’m posting some lyrics. I still encourage you to make up your own.
There is a method I remember. There is a loving I’ve run past. Strands of seconds slip dismembered. And the realization this moment’s all we have.
Is it unknown to destroy this home? Is it wasteful to be buried in these arms? Sleep eternal beside these scars. No it won’t heal, until death starts.
You’re the expert. You’re the only one. Scratching letters for some lonely crumbs. Who has time, to tell you what your plans should be? Forging signs to sell you in texts of press machines. You’re the inverse you’re the founding star. Tongue like scissors cutting through their hearts. Who has time, to tell you what the small steps mean? Turning blind, to figure out, that you’ve always had it good and you’ll always be in love.
You’re the expert at just fucking up. Such a sure thing, but it’s not enough. Who has time to tell you where your lungs will stay? Broken lines will force you into picking lanes. Because you’ve always had it good and you’ll always be in love.
Quit fooling around the crowd that you’ve gathered has stalled. Shifting so burdens fall off their backs upon our littered palms. You drift in and out not knowing the cause of your bones. Chemicals started to soften up any remnants we’ve shown.
And oh, we were the chosen wrongs, the rightful to mess things up and pull things under the table. And though, we had a world to arm. What’s the use in rivals when your home is buried in fables?
Start turning it in. The buildings you’ve built out of reason. To sum it up fully I’ve left it all in the pages of textbooks. The roots that we ate consuming the birthing of angels. Sunlight will have to wait while we sit and gather the dawn.
Give it up so you. Don’t end up like everyone. Giving up is cruel. You don’t want to end up without anyone.
You’re in love with a memory, a ghost. Turned to dust through the passage of bound spines. Turn the dial to a voice that is unknown. Feel the face of a guest inside your mind.
Sad to say. I would have loved you anyway. And always seems. If I ever told you, I couldn’t hold you.
By the time my own feelings manifest. It’ll be frame by frame on the movie screen. Swollen scenes where the shadows get undressed. Drunk off murder in places I’ve never been.
You’re in love with a memory, a ghost. You’re in love with a melody. Oh no, you’re in love with a memory.
