Couch from Furniture Land by Dylan Marx

The air is your breath and mine
And that of a thousand sailors
Filtered salty through their worn wooden flutes

And now: Music

At some point we’ll have to get rid of this table
At some point we’ll have to get rid of this couch

200 years ago this was all livestock
I’m still finding wool on the streets
Pieces of it, like little crumbs
Of a blanket or sweater or natural insulation
More often though, drywall, fiberglass
Pinewood framing and polyester stuffing
Good leather or pleather left out in the rain
Remnants of cows or ancient creatures turned to black oil

I know you want to feel all sorts of breezes
But you’ll never have real control of the wind
It’ll blow, it’ll blow, it’ll blow, precisely when it wants to
Setting sail all the infinite kings
And their more infinite dogs
Barking barking barking
Barking barking barking
Barking barking barking

At some point we’ll have to get rid of this couch
At some point we’ll get rid of this table

Do not expect too much
I know you want to
Do not expect too much
Only do not expect too much
Only only only only only

Look out, that’s once twice three times a curb
Four times a fan
Five times its humid
Six times in sand
Seven times at the bank
8 times at the movies
9 times on tv
10 times on the radio
11 times at the mall
12 times on the street
Walking walking walking
Walking walking walking
Walking walking walking
Walking walking walking

• Experimental
• alternative
• electronic
• experimental folk
• los angeles
• neofolk
• California