A compact disc in a gatefold sleeve. In the way of all objects that exist in the physical world, it is subject to degradation and decay, but that too is beautiful. Share it with your friends! Listen to it in your car! Dance to it in your kitchen! Step on it by accident! Remember your death! You are an incarnate being who deserves incarnate music!
Includes unlimited streaming of More Postcards from Purgatory
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ships out within 3 days
You own this
for True Price & Jared Evans
I miss coming over without so much as a call,
letting our wrong notes ricochet off the bare apartment walls,
playing "Boots of Spanish Leather" on your guitar.
I miss the smell of oil and honey in the room
and bitter black tea hot against the drizzling afternoon;
front door gaping, and the cold air pushing through.
I miss those mornings I'd stay til two or three,
you playing Dragon Warrior, me watching half-asleep,
myrtle blooming in the darkness and the heat.
I miss the nights we spent staring into space,
watching rain obliterate the lot around your place.
I miss those nights spent staring into space.
Now I stay up in the company of ragged hungry cats,
and prowl below the balconies, and stare up through the glass.
Cut-up figures in the bent blinds flitting past.
The hours that once were effortless, they all got stuck somehow.
I never knew I needed you, but I'm lost without you now
on the porch swing with the floodlights all around.