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Pretend It's Not Happening

by Goliathon

supported by
TRiP86
TRiP86 thumbnail
TRiP86 A very tight band, great vocals, guitarists very capable of serious shredding when called for, and alot of sweet saxophone.

This right here is some great prog-rock!
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1.
Diogenes 04:54
I’m eating my hair up here it’s in my mouth and my throat. I might be looking you square in the eyes but I think I might choke. No I ain’t too smooth, ain’t too suave, ain’t interested in it. I will say my hellos, my goodbyes but I might make a mess of it. Is there a place where I can melt into the walls. It’s not that I’m misogynistic, just feeling unsociable. Could be cranky, distracted, or tired of sculpting a smile. Yes you mean well, I see that but really, just leave me alone awhile. A place to hide is never hard to find. There are some times I’ll seem shy might seem coy might seem cold. And sometimes my head’s on my shoulders and sometimes I’m brash and uncontrolled. But I find when I’m brazen and say what I mean and don’t mind That those who are hiding stay hidden And those who break free don’t hide.
2.
Jettison 03:37
You had me feeling low and down so far down. And you took me for the fool but you don’t have a leg to stand on now. I’m on the torn and ragged edge of some black and bitter feelings but things are coming ‘round. It won’t be long. That knot of nerves in your stomach gonna come undone. They can cover their eyes and pretend it’s not happening. The only one’s they’ll be blinding are themselves. Wish it away, wish it away. It won’t be long. You and I… a forget about it. You had me feeling low and down so far down.
3.
Deep Breath 00:39
4.
Make Tracks 05:31
Claw at the pipe and claw at the gutter, seeking a light that we swear our own two eyes spied in the tunnel. So simmer down, ease your soul. Let’s take this time we’re given, an asylum where we won’t have to claw at the pipe and claw at the gutter. Eyes I need not strain. Hands wrung raw been worn in vain. Just rake the leaves that fall. We can’t make them change.
5.
Howl 01:55
Is this what you—what you want? Is this what you had in mind? Are you gonna be satisfied? Shape me. Make me think the way you say they will be pleased. Cut off my legs at the knees. Is this what you need?
6.
Kebab 04:03
7.
Life is a deadpan joke that flies over our heads. We stumble, some surer than others, in the same aimless direction. To speak the truth is a test of a man’s ability to judge himself and assess his humanity in the same unseemly light that he judges the others. Left a broken record to skip itself to death. Let the needle grind me into long black shiny slivers. Do you ever feel trapped inside your head? Every so often we eye the train, the one we should be on, but we’re too busy fueling the boiler, to get off the one we ride. Time is a pretty funny thing. It heals and forgives us our sins. But left to it’s own devices serves desert on silver trays. Anyway… I left a broken record to skip itself to death. Let the needle grind me into long black shiny slivers. Do you ever feel trapped inside your head? There are some things we don’t understand. Bees rip their guts from their flesh. And leaving the poisonous stinger, they go off on their own to die. Tell me why I’m just a broken record left to skip itself to death put the needle down into my long, black, winding rivers let the needle grin me into long, black, shiny slivers. Do you ever feel trapped inside your head? Do you ever feel?
8.
I’ve left my days strung along behind like clothes upon the bedroom floor that lead to lovers, side by side, who forget that they were ever worn And when it’s time to collect my things when that sharp alarm bell rings I’ll claim as mine every stitch I’ve flung and face the cold, the dark, the warm, the sun
9.
Cinders coat the merchant’s wares who commits himself to flame. Ashes, borne high on the Easterly wind, spread his unrest on the land. Seven days in Tahrir Square, a lifetime more to come. Change takes it’s perch on the shoulders of fate, bearing no halo, no horn.
10.
Sing 02:40
Lay me by a tall stone, lay me ‘neath the grass. A pillow for to rest my head and arms across my chest. Or maybe by the brook’s edge, where the water meets the sand. So I can sit and dip my toes and turn into the land. Or you could put me in a jar. A coffee can will do. And, laughing, throw me to the wind, where I’ll howl and sing for you.

about

Recorded and mixed at Arkbarn Studio, Indianapolis, IN, from April-July of 2012.
All songs composed by Goliathon
All lyrics by CZP
Produced by Ryan Koch and Goliathon
Mastered by Jeremy Woods
Album artwork and photography by Bryan Moore
Album layout and design by Kyle Stewart
Equipment supervisor: Larry Anderson
Management: Sherry Jane Cole

credits

released August 31, 2012

Chris Probasco - Vox, Sax, Guitar, Recorder, Orbiting Bell
Colby Holmes - Bass, Piano, Organ, Backing Vox
Christian Wren - Guitar, Slide Guitar
Derek Kendall - Guitar, Backing Vox, Mandolin
Matthew Allan Fields - Drums, Backing Vox

Auxiliary Percussion - Ryan Koch

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Goliathon Indianapolis, Indiana

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