Get all 14 Monarcadia releases available on Bandcamp and save 15%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of (Skies for (A) Place to Rest), iAnother, Brand New Body, Refresh, No Savior, Flame Retardant Suit / Reg-X, Ambien1, To Die : To Sleep, and 6 more.
1. |
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Circumstance has met you.
Circle, hello.
Where have you gone?
Stand tall.
Fine, don't say.
I'm losing.
I'm failing.
Crying.
Trying.
You're the pro.
You won.
You monster.
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2. |
Moondance Make Up!
05:47
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Here in this town
I go dancing in the park.
I go out at night.
See the red strings in the air?
I don't care.
I walk away.
It's simple;
come on, everybody weep.
Do you say anything?
I don't want you to go.
I can't say anything.
I can't communicate the ratio
of a bird factory.
"I get away,"
I know you'd say.
Here in this town I go dancing
the night away every night.
And here we are.
It's so simple to disguise every trouble.
Here in this town
I go dancing in the park.
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3. |
Crepúsculo
06:02
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4. |
The Phone
05:15
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I say,
"Will you walk away with me?"
I say, anyway,
"Will you walk with me?"
I'm deep in all my plans
around every one of these.
I'm making all of these plans around
every time you don't call me.
Every night you leave me hanging on the telephone.
When it comes today I'll wait, and I do
anyway, anywho.
When it comes today I'll say,
"Anyway, anywhere."
Anywhere, anyway...
I need some words.
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5. |
You're My Nightmare
13:41
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I can't decide
which one to carry on.
Which one to carry on?
I can't decide anymore
who finally found you.
Silent pillow,
why me?
How come?
Why lay a peril,
silent pillow?
I get a little
knotted, pillow.
I can't, pillow.
I can't decide.
Everything I've tried died.
No more missing you.
Everyone could never tend to you.
Everything you say:
the words are paper cuts on your face.
Every little blind eye
turns a little every way that it could.
Anyway that it goes,
I'm touching you.
It's watching you.
I say, "Why?"
I say, "Why say?"
"I can't," I say.
I say to you inside the misty mountaintop, "Um."
I see you in the misty mountaintop.
I see you everywhere I go.
Your face in the covers--
I want to know what's real.
I can't see everything.
Everything ok. Know the way.
I don't want a yesterday, another "I love her."
Everything part of me yesterday:
everything I would be today.
Everything, I can see the way:
everything I can be today.
I can't remember you.
I can't be a member of you anymore.
Saddened day. Certain death. Saturday.
Look on.
Here come tomorrow.
Ok, ok...
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6. |
Difficult Confessor 1
07:28
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7. |
Difficult Confessor 2
04:02
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8. |
Lightbringer
08:01
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The moon: a source of energy.
The moon: a force of light
bringing love through light.
Bring your love to me tonight.
Bring your love through the moonlight.
I call you Lightbringer.
Walking in the light.
I call you, Lightbringer.
Angels wear a normal face.
I join the moon at midnight
--my guide through my cold, dark mind.
I wonder do daywalkers
know "real" like I do?
I call you Lightbringer.
Warm in every way.
I call you, Lightbringer.
Angels wear a normal face.
I call you Lightbringer.
The moon: a source of energy.
You move a force of light.
Bring love through light.
Bring love through light, Lightbringer.
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9. |
He Say No Buddy Call
04:44
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In a sad day.
Been a sad day.
Went to the…. um.
And it's Saturday.
Been a sad day.
When you love,
go away.
I…
Weekends are my days
in February morning haze,
and I don't have to write.
There was a fate;
it wasn't mine,
and it's on its own.
The lovey-dovey love songs are gone.
And it's Saturday.
Been a sad day.
When you love…
In a sad day.
Been a sad day.
And it's Saturday
and it's Saturday.
Won't go out on Saturday.
It's Saturday.
Won't go out on Saturday
on a sad day.
And it's Saturday.
Been a sad day.
When you love….
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10. |
Forget Their Bodies
02:58
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My whole life has been a bore.
Did they forget their bodies on the river?
My whole life has been a lonely one.
Did they treat their children well
like they were taught to?
When I leave everything I know
will you say anything you are?
Standing beneath the trees,
staring at peoples in the clouds.
You invent the creatures in the foreground.
Put 'em on display.
Let them walk off the page.
Every little ant
crawling just to be what it can't.
Be what it ______.
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11. |
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Ash in my cereal. Bugs in my hair. Her love sauce is crusting all over me, and I'm tired of hearing about the signs, tired of hearing about all the signs that people see pointing every which way; I wish some of them would point at me. I spew poetic-sounding slop and you call it breakfast. To think that God is a "where," not a he/it/heshe/they/she/what/he/who/am/is/what/where/why, for places can be any color. I paint mine to remember that you're only a prisoner if you have a reason to go outside. Maybe do you want to go outside? I never want to go outside. I just want to stay in all day and rot in the cereal I've been eating since day one.
Go, far away. Go far and pray. Keep praying. Keep muttering. Keep stuttering. Keep saying all the stupid little things that you say to yourself to keep you up at night and keep you going through the day. I only have one word of advice, and that is: to be "cautious"--which is more than just a word--but walk in like you own the place. Be cautious, but walk in like you own the place...like you own it, but you think that everybody is trying to kill you.
[scream]
It's cool, I know you're all ashamed of me. I know you want what I can't give because I'm so afraid of things like pain and persecution. I've been using since I turned 16 to medicate this thick screen I put between people and me: sheens of smoke to make the daunted choke and back away, and forget ME, but I'm like everyone else, I mean I'm a little hedgehog trying to navigate a balance between alien and real talk, real talk. Real talk. Real talk, real talk, real talk…. Real. Talk.
[guttural]
And you get more and more disgusting every day--every mirror cracked and coddling your face, mocking you and all your loves that call it truth. All these pretty little doves are calling you, calling you, calling you calling you calling you calling you calling you calling you calling you calling you go go go go go slow slow slow slow slow go go go they're calling you calling you calling you go go go go go calling you calling you calling you calling you. I'm tired and cranky, my body feels like giblets matte-gnashed by beastly maw, my selfhood dangling from a snarl. Pure allegory of a bloodletting, sheer medicinal vocab. Muscle sinews backstop to point zero. Zero. Zero, they're calling you. Zero. They're calling you and they're back. They're always back. They hide in your brain. They jump out and they poison your cereal. You get excited by the lights. The still orange streetlight pixellated by its dispersal in the water. Like some old Atari game, a Vegas marquee like lights on a sign from the side. You spit in the water--spit in the water--and then you drink the water. Sleep all the way. Sleep all the way. Sleep.
[catharsis]
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Monarcadia
Monarcadia is musician, intermedia artist, and poet Alaric López.
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Since 2012
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