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by Walther's Wallpaper

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1.
It’s been two months since you spoke to me, but I think you’ve heard my voice on your machine rearranging what we know might be my last words to you. The truth is I still love you and I want you to suffer. I want to know you cry some nights for all our pointless love. I don’t want to forgive you. You can’t forgive someone for telling the truth. If you love him more than you love me then I guess there’s nothing more I can do. I don’t want to care but it can’t be helped because I’m afraid I understand how someone else could make you feel the way I’ve felt for you; All this time I’ve been alone, we weren’t in love, I was just confused. I have no regrets I loved you sincerely, which makes me question my sanity and my worth. I thought we’d spend our lives together, but clearly I had my head in the clouds, thanks to you I’m back on the earth. Looking confused and pathetic, staring from the sidewalk at the remnants of a future that I designed with you in mind. In a billion shriveled bits all the things I’m gonna miss are floating up into the clear blue sky. I don’t want it to end this way, I’m not sure whether I want it to end. I don’t know anymore if I was yours, but you were my best friend. What did you feel these past two years? How much of it was pretend? What would you do if you could do it all over again? (chorus) I only stumbled in the past but I fell right at your feet. Now all I have are these bruises and our spoiled memories. I can walk my lonely path with confidence but I must lie down to sleep, and when I finally lose consciousness you’re still with me in my dreams. It’s hard to speak but there’s nothing left to say, so I’ll shake your hand and try to walk away while dragging all our memories and waiting for my love for you to fade. (repeat chorus)
2.
I’m frightened, I won’t lie to you. I’m not trying to prove that I can hold my breath. I’m kept still by the terror of free will. I don’t know how to use the time that I have left. I fell in love with the future and now it’s passing me by. It hurts to let go but I don’t think this can be made right. (chorus) Already? All right, already. I’ll have my happy ending now. Smiles, silences, little things, accidents can probably change anything and we’re left burdened knowing things could be different, haunted with wondering. Some moments last but all moments pass. There’s nothing you can do. You gotta keep making choices but there’s no way to know what you choose. (repeat chorus) The worst is almost over. It can’t get colder and soon I’ll be numb. Carried within the silent darkness, my parts are worth more than their sum. Our obsession with happy endings is probably God having fun, but ‘til the moment I croak I’ll still be hoping for one. (repeat chorus)
3.
03 Whole 05:08
4.
04 Can't Act 04:08
The house lights dim, the crowd returns. They’re confirming your suspicions that the show up to this point was just an intermission, but as the curtains rise you find yourself surprised by the strange new way your stage is organized. Where are your parents? Where’re your friends? What happened to your summers and your weekends? It’s like waking up. You’re wondering, “How long have I been sleeping?” You were a child only yesterday, now the time you had has been replaced by a memory that seems to small to fill the space. Is it too late? The stage seemed large when you were small and all the lights shown a bit more brightly on adventures and romance that you swore you would have someday, but the first act of the script and half the actors you’re working with have you worried that this show’s not to your taste. You were cast into a part that you did not expect to play, but broken legs won’t make it easier to run away from fate. You eye the stage door to your right, but as you’re about to move a light burns your painted face; the stage and door are gone. The show goes on… He cries his last soliloquy as the cast whisper asides. The chorus sings in sotto voce and as they do our hero dies. The lights go up, the curtain falls. The crowd wakes up and then applauds. The theater empties, friends and family leave him flowers. He stands before a mirror and wipes the makeup from his face. As he’s heading for the door he takes his flowers off the stage, and although he didn’t get to pick his part or change his script, he reluctantly admits it’s not the stage… it’s how it’s played.
5.
I loved you since I first saw you, a vision in the snow, an angel walking home. God smiled at me, lifted my eyes to see you out of the dirty shop window I was looking through. Life’s promises were coming true. Now it’s been a year and I’m still standing here, right behind you, on another gorgeous night, the snowflakes shine by lamplight. We’re all alone on this charming road and the falling snow is gently filling in our footsteps. I stop by the steps outside your building, and as you slip inside, I whisper goodnight, and then he waits to see the light from your room shine warm visions of you out to this cold dark boy. I’m the luckiest boy alive. I wait across the street until you turn your lights out, then in the dark my guts churn with the opportunities that I missed. He was too cowardly to do the things that he needed to keep you with me. I would stay all night but I would freeze. I won’t always be alone. One of these nights I’ll take you home with me. (chorus) We’re a boy who saw a beautiful girl and we were mesmerized. Since she walked by it’s been a different world. We were empty. We were lonely, so was life, or so we thought. Now that we found her we will follow her, we never plan to stop. It’s not your fault that the pretty boys that ask you to dinner never show up. Murder’s a sin, so I guess that you could call him a sinner, but the boy is in love! Some girls would die for that kind of devotion. Yes, we’re crazy, crazy in love, it’s only because… (repeat chorus)
6.
(chorus) Ladies and gentlemen direct your attention to the card in my hand. Indulge in superstition. It’s enough to preserve your soul for another week or so until you yield to your suspicions. But, who’s gonna save the magician? I’ve got cards up my sleeve and a rabbit in my hat. I stuff doves down my pants in preparation for my act, but I’m relaxed. Paying customers believe the lamest crap. I just give a grin, blow a kiss, and the whole crowd starts to clap for this liar. Master of trap-doors, smoke, and wires. There’s no magic, no one has it, and despite our strong desires we’re just assholes fooling assholes wearing top-hats, capes, and formals. It’s upsetting to accept; this world’s completely normal. I loved magic as a boy. I wish that I could still believe, because without it the unknowable’s just a man behind a screen and our immutable fate is to grind away at all the mysteries that make a life worth living until we know everything like that the universe is growing and will continue to expand until matter fills infinity with empty clouds of sand and that eventually the suns will die and one day so will man. Here’s to hoping there are things that we do not yet understand. People ask me how I do it, but they don’t want to know that one million dollars of equipment placed around the stage just so is the extent of all my magic, the sole secret to my show, because without ignorance it is impossible to hope. Trust me I won’t stop looking for it until they roll me in my grave. Right now I’m skeptical but I believe that I could change, because now and then I’ve seen some things that I could not explain. It’s a real big world, I’m still unsure, that maybe keeps me sane. Why do people pay admission and eagerly wait in uncomfortable proximity to watch logic break? What makes predictability such a terrible threat? Why do we wish to disprove the root of so much success? Are we afraid to trade free will for cause and effect? Our unreliability doesn’t make us complex, but perhaps it is that certainty is not worth the price of all the possibility that it nullifies. *Recordings of David Nixon and British Pathe Mellotron obtained without intent of copyright infringement. Thank you.
7.
07 Grotesque 04:45
I felt beautiful looking at you. I thought I knew you loved me. I became used to people looking away, kindly avoiding my face, but not you. With your chisel and hammer in hand you spent days trying to understand how lines and shapes related to make my face. Because of the way you shamelessly studied me, I assumed you felt empathy and knew that this marred body had made my soul. You saw my twisted and ruined form as an artistic metaphor for man’s stupidity, cruelty, weakness, and lack of virtue. The mind is a work of art carved by life’s scars. I think you know you cut me deep. I was a fool to believe that you loved me, but it’s hard to kill dreams. I know it’s not easy to love ugly things but I wanted your love too badly to see the truth. Seiu entartete kunst! Will you feel guilty when they come for me and stand your sculpture in that gallery? Will you feel sorry after they’ve burned us both?
8.
All contestants are called to the stage. I can see that you’re trembling so I try to look brave as I smile at you and take your hand in mine. You say that you love me as our fingers entwine. I hate myself and I hate being poor. I love you so much, you deserve so much more. There’s a wire ‘round your finger where a gold ring should be. I wish we never met as I wait for the beat… 2, 3, 4 (chorus) Hold me close, my darling. I’m afraid that I feel you falling. I… Hold me close, my darling. I’m afraid that I feel you falling. You look so damn pretty in that borrowed dress. I could never afford it and that weighs on my chest when I think of our clothes hanging, dirty and wet, like quilted dishrags by the managers desk. He was looking for one more couple when he saw you and me hiding out of the rain by the side of the street. “I’ve got shelter and food, and all of it’s free at the dance marathon if you agree to compete! And there’s a cash prize! Get you back on your feet, if you happen to win. It could happen! You see, there’re only twelve other couples and I bet none of ‘em’s been through the hardship and trouble that you two have seen.” I agreed… but you didn’t speak, and I think back to that now as I look down at your feet in pretty blue shoes that are almost making you bleed, and I feel you leaning on me like you’re nearly asleep… and I whisper… (repeat chorus) There’s only one couple left, but I keep losing my breath. Yes, it’s an effort to stay on my feet. You must have fainted. I keep whispering your name, but you don’t even stir when I speak. It’s much harder now and your feet drag on the ground, can only hope that the judges don’t see. With each consecutive second our predicament seems more desperate: if we don’t win we’ll have nothing to eat. The speakers crackle as someone clears their throat. I look up with a start to find myself alone. “We have a winner!” says the man with the mic, but the folks in the stands look ready to fight. They were watching your feet and now they’re murmuring, “cheat!” but I don’t hear a word because I’ve not seen you breathe. Choking and crying, but too tired to scream, with my ear pressed to your heart as I wait for a beat… 2, 3, 4 (repeat chorus) (repeat chorus)
9.
09 Roger 05:36
This morning her alarm isn’t working. The soon to be late girl is staring out at the wall. She stares with open eyes, from a level head in a hotel bed. Consciousness came to gently to be discerned or recalled. Cold air circulates above her naked skin and makes all her silky little hairs stand on their ends. On the drive to her next flight she considers the tenuity of life while her idle mind allows her to suspend all mortal fear. Her fingers brush along the wheel, macabre and playful, barely touching. Vaguely aware that almost nothing separates her from disaster, flying at her so much faster than she could avoid. Between bated breaths, flushed thighs and breasts, a conscience tells her, “no.” A virgin’s who can’t quite decide how far she’s gonna go. She knows that within this curious grip she’s not currently fit to drive. It’s a thrilling, risky freedom, too addictive to survive. His uniform is nicely starched, but he’s got some quirks that could use ironing out. He’s got stripes sewn on his shoulder-boards and wings across his cap, but unfortunately our captain is without; hand eye coordination, strong relations with the crew, confidence or experience, and he’s got everything to prove. He’s got sex appeal when he’s not flying a plane. He’s got the heart and soul of a pilot, but not the hands or brain. People complain that his landings are rough. He seldom comes down level and the tower’s had enough. They’ve got too much on their plate without this dipshit landing planes at their airport almost twenty times per month. So they put him on probation, made him take a ride along, but even pilots piss and while the other one was gone, he closed the cockpit, locked it, and now to everybody’s horror the flight attendants are screaming and pounding at the door… (chorus) Fly that airplane Roger! Try to hit the runway straight. Come on, Captain, gotta concentrate. You’ve gotta get these people where they’re going safely. The sky marshal’s outside. We’ve tried to no avail to get you to come to some sense. He’s got his gun in hand, if we land before you open this door he’ll put you under arrest. I think the flight attendant is lying to you, she’s lying to you. She’s just afraid. She thinks you’re cool and brave. She’s fucking lying to you, lying to you! So now she’s late. She must have missed her flight. He’s comforted by imagining that she’s lost her life. He’s tired of lies and excuses. He adores her but she refuses to belong to anybody but herself. He’s walked back and forth between baggage-claim and security for hours holding his cell-phone, car keys, and a fresh bouquet of flowers, hoping she’s injured and stranded or that her mother died; anything to explain why she hasn’t called tonight. A couple hundred miles away, hours earlier that same day, the girl flew through the guardrail of the interstate. It made the local news somewhere too far away to let him know if she survived. The alternate pilot decided he couldn’t take anymore. He lost his shit and took a flying leap at the cockpit door. He smashed into the flight controls and knocked himself out, and as the aircraft took a nose-dive we all started to shout… (repeat chorus)
10.
10 Karl 05:15
I saw him out of my peripheral vision. He had a sock and several teeth missing. The kids behind the counters of all those businesses were wishing that they wouldn’t have to be the ones to call the cops. I was waiting in my car for the light to change, thinking, “It’s cold out, you bastard! Can’t you feel the rain?” Now for the rest of my drive home I will feel ashamed ‘cause I got some fives, but I don’t trust beggars to give me change. As the light turned back from green to red, the car ahead of mine stopped and trapped me right beside his stupid cardboard sign. “From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.” That sounded pretty fucking eloquent for a homeless guy to me. So, I took a quick glance at his face, but then I had to stare at his bushy beard and eyebrows, I would’ve known them anywhere. I couldn’t leave him famous and dripping wet, as daylight turned to dark, so I sat him on a blanket in the passenger seat of my car and that’s how I met Karl Marx. (chorus) Do what you feel right? Wrong! We do what we feel obliged to. It’s rarely virtue or sin, we run on urges and whims and if you’ve heard differently you’ve probably been lied to, just like me. Don’t let it get to you. All we con do is be as polite as we can. There hasn’t been a global proletariat uprising. With all our shitty capitalists, he found that quite surprising. For the first few days he was convinced that I was lying, but by the light of television he was shown the truth. He said that H.G. Wells would be back for him in a few days, but after several weeks I’d taken all I could take. It wasn’t easy being Karl Marx’s roommate. He assumed too much and asked permission not enough. He left whiskers on the soap and in the sink and shower drains. I really hope that they were whiskers, but it’s unpleasant either way. He would ask me what we had to eat, never offered to buy groceries, he just lay around buck-ass naked, smoking cigars on my couch. (repeat chorus) He wasn’t angry when I asked him to leave. He thanked me once and then he packed up his things. Communism’s difficult, I think he’d agree that we are still not ready for it, neither is he. I felt obliged to ask where he was headed to. He said he was following the recommendation of this guy he knew who had moved to the north pole and worked his troubles out. I bid him farewell and then he headed south. (repeat chorus)
11.
My bicycle tires whisper over the empty streets and pass lonely fires where huddled people stare back at me. The houses all look deserted, the cars are all gone, and rows of cooling bodies stare up from their lawns. Old men equipped with metal detectors roam through the ashes, looking for treasure. The air smells of sulfur, the asphalt is charred, and dark orange smoke is floating under the stars. As my pedals propel me deeper into the night, the horizon starts to tremble with noises and light. Oddly, the whole situation brings me a strange sense of relief. (chorus) If it all ends tonight, like it looks like it might, we’ll get to abandon the hope that’s been hanging ‘round our throats. Undo Pandora’s mistake; trade obligations for fate. I think we’d finally feel alright if it all ends tonight. I wanted a sunset that would burn the doubt from my mind and credits that could roll up all of my loose ends. Looking back it’s easy to wish that we had more time; this is not the best night to be looking for new friends. No one wrote our lines for us, sometimes the story wandered. We could not fade to a montage, there were awkward pauses. I may not feel it anymore, but I loved you completely. All is said and done but I won’t sell the memory cheaply. (repeat)
12.
12 Hole 05:27
13.
13 Dear Moon 03:17
Dear Moon, I love you. Without your light, think I'd feel sad tonight and I know, shiv'ring in shimmering snow, I'm oh-so-lucky to have you. Is it lonely way up there knowing all Earth's lovers stare, arm in arm. I hope that you're not alarmed that I'm staring too. They might say it'll never work; a human being and a planet-sized chunk of dirt. If they think that's all you're worth, then what do they know? I'll come to see you in my rocket ship. Fuel's expensive so I plan to burn cow-chips, you could call it bullshit, afraid that's all that I've got. Bullshit can keep you warm, just ask the Mormon pioneers. They say it works really well if you can handle the smell of what's already been swallowed. Good night darling I'll see you tomorrow, my beautiful moon. Dear Moon, I love you. Without your light, think I'd feel sad tonight and I know, shiv'ring in shimmering snow, I'm oh-so-lucky to have you. Dear Moon, I love you. I'd be scared if you weren't up there in the dark, outshining the stars, my beautiful moon.

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released November 22, 2012

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Walther's Wallpaper Idaho

Named after the inventor of the optical planetarium (W. Bauersfeld), Walther's Wallpaper presents dark and comical stories from history, art, and imagination in the form of danceable songs. Sibling duo Ian and Chloe danced to the beats of a Casio SA-8 before they started keeping their own memories. They wear more clothes now. ... more

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