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Basement Sessions

by Jules Vincent

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1.
2.
Papa said “now don’t fall into the well” Papa said “now you’ll just grow up swell” Papa said “now don’t go into the well” I fell, I fell, I fell, I Fascinating as one comes aware Rattling with insipid air Stretching out and through Broken physical form for you Free floating, free loathing Writhing in atramentous spray Contorting, controlling In starvation we will all decay Abrasion scarring eager eyes The young grow old and cut their ties Old men weep for aging desert tales Fill blood streams with their drink and the dirt on their nails Poisoning lungs and deepening debts The longer we live the harder it gets Right becomes wrong and naiveties left And breaking my good word will hang on my breathe No place for loyalty when we’re coming of age History dropped by those with hungered ways The brighter my vision the darker my sight I don’t like this new place it’s too black and white It’s never so simple, to think is cockeyed It can’t be thrown to each end of a divide The tall ones are all blind It’s the middle ground they can’t find like we can, we can like we can, we can We can see when they all pick a side With blindfolds on they all walk in a line The sheep will be lambs to the slaughter Heads bitten off by their sons and their daughters In or out or any other way There may be a time when we betray Monoliths and looming tradition Give them a run, fuel their superstition There’s no hope for them Abandon your elders boy And still theres no hope for us Got to count on the younger boys Oh but we we just turn our cheeks and stay inside I sit and dream dreams of times where we’ll thrive But I every time I just come to realize They’ll never float, they’re destined to capsize In my life I don’t think that I’ll witness My brothers and sons help cure this illness When a vision is so hard to uphold Is it better to just leave on the blindfold There’s no hope for them Abandon your elders boy And still theres no hope for us Can we count on the younger boys? What would we see if we opened our eyes?
3.
How easy would it be How simple does it seem Oh the white light how it gleams Beckoning my dreams And I could throw a stone That’d crush my aching bones Break and start the flatline drone Leave naught but unbeknowns And I could breathe The air that we all breathe Or I could stop and cease Intentional release And i could stand to believe These thoughts a’plaguing me Are telling me to leave Reconcile and reprieve Myself Reprieve myself Reprieve myself Chase dark and all and else The wonder of it all How does one find themselves So far away from help Bittered, left to shelf This journey Will proceed For eternity It don’t need me And all throughout the show We all have things we owe Round every twist and turn And black moonlit sunburn As we sail for wind scathed shores With the king and queen as oars We all will lock our doors And plot to settle scores And reprieve Ourselves Reprieve ourselves Make dark and all and else The wonder of it all How do we find ourselves In such desperate need of help We’ve done it to ourselves On those young legs He runs Chasing the birds He runs Shooting them down With invisible guns For breakfast his mother made Cinnamon buns And on those young legs He runs There's wonder spread To every corner of his eyes His face contorted In a state of constant surprise The wind in his hair, His feet laying bare- On grass, and the humid- Summer air And on those young legs He runs And who will hear the sound Of the laughing boy who fell to the ground? The young neck cracks And his eyes stand still His mothers crying From the window sill The warblers hush As the ravens begin That crooked melody That they always sing And who will hear this sound? Will it drip from the cheeks of men and wet the ground? I’m scared When I wave goodbye gray haired No one will hear me No one will hear me No one will hear me No one will hear When I hit the ground And i will I’m gonna hit the ground
4.
How easy would it be How simple does it seem Oh the white light how it gleams Beckoning my dreams And I could throw a stone That’d crush my aching bones Break and start the flatline drone Leave naught but unbeknowns And I could breathe The air that we all breathe Or I could stop and cease Intentional release And i could stand to believe These thoughts a’plaguing me Are telling me to leave Reconcile and reprieve Myself Reprieve myself Reprieve myself Chase dark and all and else The wonder of it all How does one find themselves So far away from help Bittered, left to shelf This journey Will proceed For eternity It don’t need me And all throughout the show We all have things we owe Round every twist and turn And black moonlit sunburn As we sail for wind scathed shores With the king and queen as oars We all will lock our doors And plot to settle scores And reprieve Ourselves Reprieve ourselves Make dark and all and else The wonder of it all How do we find ourselves In such desperate need of help We’ve done it to ourselves On those young legs He runs Chasing the birds He runs Shooting them down With invisible guns For breakfast his mother made Cinnamon buns And on those young legs He runs There's wonder spread To every corner of his eyes His face contorted In a state of constant surprise The wind in his hair, His feet laying bare- On grass, and the humid- Summer air And on those young legs He runs And who will hear the sound Of the laughing boy who fell to the ground? The young neck cracks And his eyes stand still His mothers crying From the window sill The warblers hush As the ravens begin That crooked melody That they always sing And who will hear this sound? Will it drip from the cheeks of men and wet the ground? I’m scared When I wave goodbye gray haired No one will hear me No one will hear me No one will hear me No one will hear When I hit the ground And i will I’m gonna hit the ground

about

Recordings from our rehearsal space: a basement, hence the name. Nothing really serious here, just some low quality recordings of songs in the middle of the development/learning stages. Musicianship is shoddy and were half winging it on some of these, but if you ever want to hear how our songs have developed over time these recordings will give you just that.

credits

released January 25, 2013

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Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.

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about

Jules Vincent Beverly, Massachusetts

Jules Vincent is:
Liam Beaudoin - Vocals, Bass, Guitar, Sampler
Owen Bolas - Synths, Sampler
Alex D'alfonso - Drums
Alex Walsh - Guitar, Keyboards, Vocals

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