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Cut and Paste

by Spraynard

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And with every sunset we're even closer to the day we die, but with every sunrise we are thankful that we're still alive. Even though this place is fucked, we'll pick each other up and do it all again. If we find it can't be fixed, at least we had one hell of a time. Sometimes it's hard to keep our heads up, but we'll work together, sort it out try to remember, and try to remember why we still wake up. So we'll keep it together just one more night. We'll talk of hope in this town until the morning's light reminds us just how tired we are.
And I was just about to give it up - I grabbed my things and i was halfway out the door. But as I took that step, I remembered what you said: "when it seems like this town has finally hit the ground, think of every night that we felt invincible, and recreate it." I know you're dying, I know you feel like giving up. But all I ask is one more night to scream at the top of your lungs. We've got to wake up. We've got to make the dreams we have at night part of daytime reality. And sometimes I fucking hate myself and I want to get out of this town, and find brand new people and brand new reasons to fucking hate myself. But then I walk these streets and I see why we keep pushing on to build a community.
These walls are crumbling. These colors are fading fast. And our wheels are wearing down faster than our confidence. We know who we are. As the scrapes from yesterday heal, we learn how to bandage the new ones. If the wood breaks on impact, I hope the bonds that we formed don't repeat the process. And as the sun retreats over concrete, we'll let the battery burn and leave the headlights on all night. These lights will burn all night. Go ahead, put that fence back up. We'll just tear it right back down again. We'll bend the bars, tear apart the links, and just keep on moving.
I can't spend another night trying to conjure up the way I've felt over the past two years. Whether it's disappointment, anger, frustration, or the loss of emotion - I probably just need some rest. All we've ever wanted is to feel alive when we wake up in the morning. So we'll set aside what we need to be, and we'll try, and we'll fail, and we'll die and be remembered for what it was. But to be remembered means so much more that what we needed to be. And it seems like every time that I fuck up i tell myself it's the last time, but the next day find myself defeated again. So I'll keep these two years in the past, along with the anger and frustration, because tonight I'll feel safe in a stranger's basement.
Sometimes I think these buildings' shadows will keep me from waking up. But every day the sun finds a way to peer through all the dust. Waking up with a reason to move forward is what we need to feel necessary, it's what we need to breathe. So let's cut and paste these the happy memories so that our reason is that much easier to see.
I'm glad we drove all night, because now I know that a Maryland sunrise is just as beautiful as the people it wakes up. Don't forget to take your shoes off and say "hi" to mom. You've got a home here no matter where you're from. And while the heart of every honest kid gets swallowed by the city, you keep yours beating.
Old friends keep crossing paths, and I'm glad to see that they're still wishing it was the old days. But I'm wondering if we're all moving on, or thinking about what it would've been like if we stayed the same. One more night alone is the last thing that we need, because everything else is way too temporary. So I'll meet you at the diner at 11 o'clock and we'll start to talk about the old days, because we both know we're not happy with the new ones. Keep holding on to everyone that makes us happy.
My clothes are stained with the blood from my hands as the needle is dripping dry. It's resting on the table by my bedside. I can feel the fabric within my veins. I'm sure it's stained by now. I'm not sure I'll ever get out. Father told me this would feed the family, if just for a little while. He said, "we're needed by the Americans and their ever-changing style." He used to be the strongest man my eyes had ever seen. Now he lies in a shallow grave thanks to faulty machinery. Fuck this machinery.
We'll jump off the balconies just to show how much this really means to us. But as we fall to the ground, the girls are nowhere to be found. We talk of moving forward, but as we're pushing on, we're pushing them away. Yet, who am I to say? These songs are just the start. There's a lot of things to fix. We're putting it back together because none of us know how hard it hits. This can't be done alone. These things you said ran right down my spine. They made my eyes fill with tears and made me fear what she would feel if she knew you thought like that. Someone please give these girls a reason to believe that we're finally fucking listening, because who are we to say?
Jay's Cafe 01:58
How lucky we are to know about this community and everything that it has to offer. But even though it seems we've found our home, there's still so much pain and so many problems ignored. We need to communicate; we need to tell one another exactly how we feel, and just exactly why this hurts. So when I read the words you wrote, I'll tell you that you are not alone. Without sincerity, this would fall apart, so let them see what's inside your heart. Someday everything will come together and never come apart. And if we can't fix the problems, at least we can say we tried.
I used to hate this place, and now it's all that we've got. The empty halls are closing their doors and we're singing with acoustic guitars in parking lots. So crowd into this room and we'll sing the things that still have purpose. Cut these breakers and we'll dance in the dark. Flood the room, and we'll sing till our lungs will burst. Add a spark and we'll keep on moving. Cut these breakers and we'll dance. So I'll let this needle run through the etchings and forget the bad days. And if this record skips, then I'll try and keep my thoughts positive. Because if not, I'll be up all night. As the lights go down, we think of all the fun we've had. If we close our eyes, maybe this won't hurt so bad.


"Cut and Paste" is SPRAYNARD's first LP, and was recorded with Phil Douglas (LATTERMAN, IRON CHIC) in Long Island, New York. Expect plenty of songs about trying to make things happen in a place that makes making things happen really hard sometimes, but having the will to keep trying anyway. Stylistically, Spraynard sounds a lot like the bands that the guy that engineered the record is in (and a lot of other bands from Long Island). That said, there's still a good deal of BOUNCING SOULS and LAWRENCE ARMS flavor in this debut LP.


released March 2, 2010

All songs by Spraynard. Recorded by Phil Douglas at the Hobo House in Long Island, NY.


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Runner Up Records Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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