I Often Dream of Drones

by Morning Mohawk

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1.
Another night of countin' cards, jokers gettin' trashed; another windy morning with the flag at half-mast. Somewhere someone did something that they shouldn't have. Somewhere there's a side of you that I will never know. Bunkered in the suburbs, where they reenact their wars, simulating battles after doin' all the chores. Union fightin' rebels fightin commies fightin' bums; down the street they celebrate another tariff gone. Markets crash and towers burn, automatic doors open for you and me and we say: "let me love you; let me know all of everything." Grandpa sold cars, drank beer on our stoop; memorized Leviticus like all the other Jews. Sayin, "Hey mister, it's exactly what it seems: for 35 you're drivin' the American Dream." His theater was Korea back in 1953; the war was never won, but it's a technicality. I'm a 20-minutes' march from the place we call home; I'll never have your number, I can feel it in my bones. Markets crash and towers burn, automatic doors open for you and me and we say: "let me love you; let me know all of everything." We'll never know, we'll never know...
2.
Radio alarm clock's red light shines like a sore in the middle in the middle of the night. 6:30 a.m. a man asks me if I'm happy with the cigarettes I buy. Commercials on the radio. I got a thought that I keep real close-- I'm not made for the downtown heights. The boys in market research tell us a lot can hide in neon lights. Semi-automatic's on the shotgun side, semi-automatic's on the shotgun side. Can't feel safe in our shopping malls, so we drive. Commercials on the radio. Songs about DJs and being young; we lost our minds, but we still had fun. Celebrate a person that you never meant to publicize, and tell me why you're happy with the cigarettes you buy. Check the analytics in the middle of the night, check your vital signs. Chest pains could be anything, it could be your time. I'd rather be alone when I'm feeling this way, sit around and cultivate all the things that grown-ups told me, the same old story, I never wanna pull my weight. There are things about you that I will never know, there are things you'll never know about me. We know in our heads there are things better left unsaid or with technology. Commercials on the radio...
3.
I often dream of drones, disguise my voice on the telephone. Sometimes when we're free, I can feel your heart beatin' in your skull. Patriotic symbols in a banquet hall-- if the world has gone to shit, at least it's written in the stalls. I need my head like I need a black hole. All our heroes say, "Let the good times roll!" Someone's on the ropes again. Where there's smoke, there's always a pyrotechnic show for the fans who paid, who paid. Receipts at the gate, let it all accumulate and let 'em burn. I often dream of drones, my thoughts run wild when I'm all alone. Project my own demise, signs of life in an alibi. Everybody's got thoughts they don't understand. There's something in the air like you could hold it in your hand. Search far and wide, there's nowhere left to hide our gold. All our heroes say, "Let the good times roll!" Someone's on the ropes again. Where there's smoke, there's always a pyrotechnic show for the fans who paid, who paid. Receipts at the gate, let it all accumulate and let 'em burn. I can feel your heart beatin' in your skull...
4.
Marginalia 04:04
Late at night I lie awake in bed and think of my last meal; the things I'd say at funerals, the drinks I've had behind the wheel. Right between the eyes-- we're not too young to die. Artificial bodies of water reflect the clear blue sky. Gears may shift your point of view, the way you think of Illinois. It just occurred to me-- we both were once at sea, fighting for other souls. I don't want to be the first to say I don't want to be the first to say, analogies pathologize our daily lives. I miss you.

credits

released February 18, 2016

Produced by Morning Mohawk and Anna Deem. All songs by Morning Mohawk. Eliza Bryant, backup vocals on "War Reenactments." Griffin Teller, piano on "Commercials on the Radio." Recorded throughout 2015, in a variety of basements across the Chicagoland area.

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Morning Mohawk Chicago, Illinois

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