Gay Schoolgirl EP

by WON TON DEATH

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  • Immediate download of 6-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

     

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about

new songs. recorded between november & december 2013, in new york, cape cod, and connecticut. pardon the sound quality; my recording rig is pitiable. thanx for listening :)

credits

released 01 January 2014

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Track Name: Afraid to Touch (Memory)
I forgot to tell you
about the piano in my house
it’s an old Baldwin
an upright and it’s made of
this beautiful dark wood
whose name I can’t always remember
especially when I write in the dark

I wonder how they would translate
the making of my body
into a serialized industrial process

I’m afraid to touch the piano now
because it makes me think
of all the things I can’t do anymore
things twelve year old me could do
twelve year old me
could play Bach preludes
crisply and with the vivacity of youth
or some such shit
or some such shit

twelve year old me never looked
at my face in his mirror
and said, fuck you face
I will control you
fuck you face, fuck you tired eyes
little frown, fuck you face

record my periods
onto wax records
and Rorschach blots
until I bleed out
Track Name: Gay Schoolgirl
cold and alone, that was my trip home
i traded one emptiness for another
crying in the car with my mother
my body left the place, but my psyche stayed behind
i kept a diary but i’ve been writing the same thing for 4 months
i guess enough is enough but i don’t know if i believe that people can change

gay schoolgirl
we will be such friends
ahhhh

everybody knows your name
but they never say it to your face
spend your school days as a charity case
but what would you have to say to them anyways
i’ve got nothing to say to anyone and i’m scared
so i write songs no one will hear

gay schoolgirl
we will be such friends
ahhhh

do you ever feel that you’re looking in
on a normal people convention
and you feel like a fucked-up weirdo
cause if you were in there, you wouldn’t know where to begin
cause you have no passions
and you have no friends
and the only way you express yourself
is banal cliches of teenage angst
but you’re 19 now, and it’s not cute anymore
i should probably find a therapist

gay schoolgirl
you are so much more
gay schoolgirl
open up your heart

i kept a diary but i’ve been writing the same thing for 4 months
i guess enough is enough but i don’t know if i believe that people can change
i kept a diary but i’ve been writing the same thing for 4 months
i guess enough is enough but i don’t know if i believe that people can change
i don’t know if i believe that people can change
i don’t know if i believe that people can change
Track Name: Helft mir, ihr Schwestern
Helft mir, ihr Schwestern,
Freundlich mich schmücken,
Dient der Glücklichen heute mir,
Windet geschäftig
Mir um die Stirne
Noch der blühenden Myrte Zier.

Als ich befriedigt,
Freudigen Herzens,
Sonst dem Geliebten im Arme lag,
Immer noch rief er,
Sehnsucht im Herzen,
Ungeduldig den heutigen Tag.

Helft mir, ihr Schwestern,
Helft mir verscheuchen
Eine törichte Bangigkeit,
Daß ich mit klarem
Aug ihn empfange,
Ihn, die Quelle der Freudigkeit.

Bist, mein Geliebter,
Du mir erschienen,
Giebst du mir, Sonne, deinen Schein?
Laß mich in Andacht,
Laß mich in Demut,
Laß mich verneigen dem Herren mein.

Streuet ihm, Schwestern,
Streuet ihm Blumen,
Bringet ihm knospende Rosen dar,
Aber euch, Schwestern,
Grüß ich mit Wehmut
Freudig scheidend aus eurer Schar.
Track Name: In the Desert
what was i thinking about
in the desert air?
real chagrined to find
you were not on my mind

i know my timing sucks sometimes
on a westbound flight that night
just as things were going awry
guess i should have stayed behind
to nurse what was dying
dying in my life
in the springtime night
as the crickets whirred, pinkish buds came alive

i had known for some time
we were in decline
i was scared to say–
scared to communicate

and instead of talking to you
i took twilight walks through the dunes
stuffed my worries deep inside
every crevice i could find
‘tween the layers of dolomite

what was i thinking about
in the desert air?
oh yeah
where have i been all this time?
i’ve been lost in my mind

i knew what was going on
too scared to take it on
lost myself in mirages and steam
the mirror clearness of a desert stream

far away in the desert air
far away from here

well, my mind meandered at length
killin time till i had the strength
to clear the dust and do the deed
took me way too long to see

if you’ve got shit on your mind
tell your loved ones
we need to be honest with our friends and with ourselves
Track Name: Pathologize Me
ahhh
please please please please please
tell me i’m sick broken unclean
in need of intervention
by a qualified medical professional
heavy doses of invasive chemistry
yes please that’s what i need

i wanna feel ugly and othered
yeah make me hate my body
make me hate my fucking flesh
and the skin i’m in
pathologize me, baby
pathologize me, baby (avoid me like the plague)
pathologize me, baby (avoid me like the plague)
etc.
Track Name: Won Ton Death Raps For You (Errata)
errata, rotting in storage
3 days past ripe & blemishing quicklike
retrograde ejaculation of aspersions
into sancto spiritu sanctum
reamed in the rectum by a rando from grindr
only in my queerest fantasy life
would i have the time or inclination
for anonymous bareback sex with well-hung strangers
but it makes a better rap than furtive masturbation
and as in the rituals of conjuring and stagecraft
that we use to write our personal narratives and backdrafts
here i can weave my very own little mandala, a labyrinthine fractalia
circumscribed in gold-gilt concentric spheres,
guarded by gargoyles and goblins to ward off my fears
yeah, i’m weaving a beautiful mandala from
tapeworms’ silk & black banana peels
an ad hoc ramshackle shanty shack where we can
sit on the stoop & do drunk sea chanteys
measure ourselves by the light of brave Polaris
and by the ever-important boreal azimuth:
theta from sun to northern star
to the tippy-tippy-tops of our tiny balding heads
as sigma from our first vaginal graspings
to our final lonely bedridden graspings:
a daily lifetime of graspings,
all mine to blush at from two steps ahead
to catalogue & deposit, sarcophagize away
left in my own internal mandala to decay