Lost in a Dream, Vol. 2: NREM

by Native Bells

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Summertime shirts
and glazed jeans
dripping with a swing
and eating
Surrounded by a stained-glass mess and soluting stupid idols
Claiming to be prophets and reciting too-specific imagery
Ignoring the politics bleeding and filling you

The sky is never blue
It is only white or black
The tarmac, breathing under August,
emaciates an Autumn breeze
Aware, alarmed, eyes wide and hands pink
Expressed in pressed dress pants, loafers, & thin ties
Staring judgementally at your boots
and drifting away on the New York train
Belated and waiting to be beheaded in some cell
for whatever an Arab is worth

When the music is over
you'll wake up in shining lights, sprawled comfortably in your bed
When the music is over
you'll resume unchanged, the storm will stay
When the music is over
you'll be left in echoing white, terrified of all your space and abandon
When the music is over
you'll sit, shoelaces untied and hair disheveled
When the music is over
you'll wonder, stunned; when all is gone,
patiently waiting to wake


released August 18, 2011



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Native Bells New York, New York

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Track Name: Destroyed
Spiders and silverfish crawl on the walls
Making stains where they step
and in chains they get wet
Tortured in some medicine cabinet chemical
'Til they bow to some master
or some monster
with their fist in a clench
with a dripping, sewer stench

Poor country boys and negroes pull til they're full
with their brains steeped in war
Asking only for more
Abused by some mechanical delinquent
A bug in the system
or your mother, father, or sister
Making pools of blood shimmer
while the mud below simmers

Asian girls and young white men, seek out the meek
looking only for ease
To be playful and teased
Meddled with by cities far apart
'Til they know its too much
Driven too mad
Holding nothing so dear
as to listen or hear
Track Name: You and They and He
Your sounds are all real
"The real deal", they tout
If they knew what you were about

They look to be green
Clean, what i mean to be true
But i'm not sure they know you

Dead in the streets
All beat, defeated, tried
And confidently decided

Watching the gap
A pat on the back for a pose
They'll assume and suppose

Listen for rings
Singing strings in your throat
Words you never could've wrote

Standing so bleak
Freaks at bleecker and sixth
Look at you 'fore they split

Sometime you'll try
To get by, end up hiding, held in
Where does one end and one begin?
Track Name: There's Certainly No Turning Back Now
When you lit up your smoke
I think that's when I realized
How cool you must've looked
Or how dumb I must've felt
Because I wanted all ya took
And there's certainly no turning back now

When you took off your shoes
Maybe that's about when
I knew I was gonna have to lose
Cause hair like that don't flow
When someone like me is in the room
And there's certainly no turning back now

When you stepped out of the car
I guess that's when I figured out
That all my cheap cigars
Would never make me cool enough
To fit within your palm
And there's certainly no turning back now

When you picked up your guitar
I saw it in your fingers
In the way you drove your car
The way you sat reserved
The way you closed the night in awe
And there's certainly no turning back now

If your eyes weren't so bright
Maybe I might have a shot
At seeing you through the night
Or maybe saying something
'stead of staying out of sight
And there's certainly no turning back now

When the night time eats away
And chases down what's left
Of all the hopeless, easy prey
That ultimately defies my ego
As it slips away
There's certainly no turning back now

If you'd simply give me time
To rearrange the way I think
and push all this behind
Maybe all those scattered thoughts
Won't matter in my mind
Cause there's certainly no turning back now
Track Name: Disconnection
Trapped inside an unfurnished room
The walls look the same and they tower and bloom
The cities outside but its sure not in here
And all I've got now is all my hopes and my fears

Stuck inside with nobody to call
A house that's asleep, a house that's never a home
I could be tough, work the rest of it out
But all that I seem to do is sit here and shout

Maybe the world keeps us longer than that
Stranded in pain as our bodies grow mad
Making the night up as the clock ticks away
But on the silent 5th floor, I can't hear it anyway

How do the shapes of the room twist so strange
When all that is here are the blank walls from the day
Maybe we'll stay a while or maybe we'll go
This might be forever, this might not be enough

And as I get higher, as my hands start to shake
My body will twist, then throw itself away
I can't make a sound, I can't talk to you now
All that is here is this flame that I've found

And as the flame starts to flicker inside
It's glow all-encompassing, destroying my pride
The world isn't there, and the world isn't here
There is nothing to love and there is nothing to fear

And I will go on, and I'll follow the flame
And although I have fear and although I have shame
There is nothing where there once was me
Can I finally say that I'm finally free?
Track Name: Don't Look Here
who made you to press organ keys under wooden spotlights
with hungover swaying in Sunday morning rain
for carrying water bottles safely under your arm
down the highway and back
listening to preaching form a pleasant hum
but plastic idols hang around and candles don't shine under electrical lights
chasing archaic hymns toward the grave
well shaved and well dressed, khaki foot steps to the alter
hiding treason or thought or freedom in jazz
keeping in your sharp-elevens and flat-nines
keeping them close to you in spirit
or maybe close to heart
to break free from your cadential figures
of p. a. c. or i. a. c. or plagal or some other combination of letters
strung to memorize, seeing not with your eyes
but with your ears
but you hear with your mouth
or taste what you see
and you judge it in colors
in red sights and sounds
in blue lips and nights
in pink, striped shirts
in imitation shades
in green-dyed drainpipes
cut-off at your knees
cut-off where you please
cut-off towards your wrists
or your pink fingertips
where you hands used to be
where you eyes used to be
lost in miles of fading night
as you draw nearer to the light
to make glimpsing passes of eye contact
dissolving all your contracts
saving desperately the facts you think you're sure of
more than anything
like some blanket to keep you warm
because its cool in this room
and the carpet is freezing into needles
needling your broken vinyl on the wall
making sure that vintage means a couple hundred bucks
and that individuality sells
and that you'll never press keys
'less you want them t' be pressed
make your choice where you have choice
and dont accept where you dont
dont look back
dont look forward
dont look here

make twenty dollar bills to last you days beyond your quota
quoting ginsberg in your sleep, weeping daily past 18
take the county roads as far as they will go, find a home
find a place to slam the shutters, left blindly down the road
til the nights you feel are empty, hollowed trees and hollow centers
in the sun, burning slow, burning bright, burning even through the night
naked, twitching on cocaine and wishing things were still the same
blaming sons and daughters simply for their names
believing only who you ask
asking only who you believe
cycling forward on two wheels
to the street
to the burning New York heat
to the sweating of the dance pit
pitches everyone to the step of your skating shoes
skate on wings, waxing soft
waxing down, down and up
left and right, good and bad
dreaming dreams you've never had
til the characters all sleep
by your side
in your bed
holding over, make 7th ave look crisp and latin
latent talent torn apart until you are all thats left
you, sitting stunned
all in black, all around black
blackened eyes, blackened skin
feeling ultimately disgusted with your books and school and kin
and your friends that just get you high for cheap
looking for something to eat or some way to pass the time
til your money dwindles thin
dripping everywhere, peering out through squinted eyes
communist lies, they'll shout
or shout conspiracy til they don't know what it is they're talking about
and hyperbolic memories, subject to being optimized or terrorized
or publicized through someone else's eyes
designed to trap you at your own shore
sure of everything for now
dont look back
dont look forward
dont look here

who looked so beautiful at first but now is all but sweet
vivid caricatures of her brittle legs and feet
puffy cheeks and hazel eyes
swimming in your morning coffee
swimming in your morning curtains
swimming in your morning day dreams
swimming in infinity
infinitely looped to the divine
try'n' to analyze your mind
written on notepads and TVs
and on lead sheets, bed sheets, metal sheets
scraping at your forearm skin that bleeds a metal sheen
taken to the factory floor
taken out the factory door
wonder what all that work was for
or when you'll give up
when your egos been tied up
and chained and gagged and bound
and wrapped around your little finger
tightly as you tap on your thigh
typing streams of words at breakneck pace
with naught time to waste, not time to pace
racing heartbeat, racing pulse, racing perfume in your purse
on your walls obsessed with 1960s icons
iconoclastic in every way you're not
waves that crash through your hair
causing wonderful streaks that shine in ways that never were meant to be
that make the air around them fit jigsawed under boredom's stare
and wondering how much you could possibly care
dare to look again, dare to be yourself
whoever that is
whoever you are
dont look back
dont look forward
dont look here