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Tangible Problems

by Topiary Creatures

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1.
Call it heavenly father issues, looking for meaning here. I’m fixated on a rear view screen; everyone’s watching TV. But who’s to decipher that disposable year? Four zip codes and dead peonies, I’m not attached, nor them to me. I just... Study its sting. I’m never working towards something. It’s just unravelling a funeral And I wanted you to hurt me more, prove the meaning here. Oh the oddity of another girl’s breath, I got scared at how little I flinched. Peace is just reestablishment; there’s only transient hope. Now I’ve just apathy towards you and your friends, with your perfect skin and tangible problems. I’ll just... They say you’ll go to great lengths for the thing that you love; but my efforts are immeasurable for nothing at all.
2.
You waste so much time not thinking about how fast it flies. You just watch TV while I’m watching our lives on the screen. We set cursory goals and act shocked when they all dissolve. Flashbacks to when this started, you were only a hunt. There was nothing I wanted and I always get what I want. It’s cruel that we can rule our lives. When, finally, will I not get what I want? I poisoned your smile trying to learn its source of light. Threw out my TV, and I watch it over and over again on the screen. We make selfish goals and feel gloom when it’s not our fault. I should’ve left this as a conquest, I know. Now it’s all that we deserve. It’s all that we deserve.
3.
I’ve been traveling for months, interviewing versions of myself from different subways and different lives, hoping someone finally gets hired. All I can think of is lost time. I’m stuck in the thought from boarding a plane— of coming to terms with crashing and dying. I’m the only one who craves getting their choices audited for blame. And I dare you to find yourself from a moving target. Oh, the magnets of common life reverberate through highway signs. It hurts to go anywhere; it hurts to see anyone. There’s time, darling, you still can choose any one life and I’d live for you. It hurts to go anywhere; it hurts to see anyone.
4.
These storefronts are graves, since you asked. Oh, there’s nothing to find here, it’s all on display. The parks are all paved. I can’t relax. Oh, there’s nothing to find here, it’s all on display. I need melodic nothingness of my Carolina. Disarm. Take your headphones off. Find a point where you can breathe with just ambient sounds. I need melodic nothingness of my anywhere else. I don’t want another fucking perfect cocktail, it doesn’t change that we need to drink. The food is great here, well nothing else is, I get the sense it has to be. It’s passionless; it’s flat wine; it’s all a distraction but I don’t... I don’t want another festival to go to, it doesn’t change that we need the noise. Views are great when you’re far away, but up close it won’t feel the same. A silk robe cut to the wrong size, at the wrong place and the wrong time. I want less hope. Give me less hope. I wanna find it on my own. It’s all a distraction but I don’t know what from. I’m being distracted but I don’t know what from.
5.
Stranger 03:03
Remember when you told me how life would’ve felt left back in Lincoln? We’d never share the same view. How bizarre. Someone could’ve died in this home, right where we’re laying now, passing all on all of their dressers and bookshelves and sins. For everything that could’ve been, you suddenly acting like a... Stranger is far stranger. Remember when I told you how haunting it’d been not knowing your past lives? I put death threats in songs for you. That seems wrong. I can feel the past lives in this home. We’re stuck with their problems, I feel more akin to the intangible advice of a ghost. Through everything that we had done, knowing I could fall for such a...
6.
Greener 03:57
If the grass is greener on the other side, then I’m colorblind. Absorbing my regrets from a “no vacancy” sign and it’s buzzing light. I may never understand what’s always wrong, what’s always off. I may never understand what’s wrong. Pictures of old rooms, so many shades of blue. I’m in the same mood. Booked a therapist because I had no reason to. Then called to cancel it without consulting you. I’m just so damn scared that there’s nothing left to say. But the impulse to speak never goes away.
7.
I say “two years” like it’s a cloudy week. Oh, you must forgive me, I’m still learning to speak about myself in terms we all understand. Like, “a minefield of peripheral monopolies,” I don’t have a reason to check my eyes until something doesn’t show up right. I’m swatting at a fly that’s just not there. Who’s gonna let me know? Existential floaters, you can’t disown. I’ve thrown everything out of my life, but myself. Maybe that’s the problem. I’ve thrown everything out of my life and nothing helps. Maybe I’m the problem. Bad luck, freedom is a disease. How am I supposed to problem solve while fixing the ones I leave behind me? Cause I don’t have a light wash since she left, and I don’t keep friends around long enough to give the black clothes any context. Autonomy’s not our friend. Who’s gonna let me know? Existential floaters, you can’t disown.
8.
THPS3 03:22
Go on, if you wanna, prop your eyes up with puzzle pieces. Go on, nothing’s getting solved. Part of you thinks that you feel worse than you do. It’s imaginary tension, a rationalized misdirection. Part of you thinks that you feel so much worse. There’s always a way to lose. Go on, if you wanna, soak in your memories. Go on, freak the fuck out and blame California. But part of you thinks that you feel worse, as I remember, it’s imaginary tension, a rationalized misdirection. Part of you thinks that you feel so much worse. Start literally calling yourself a liar. It’s gonna rule your life. Discovering foundries behind your eyes, building you things to fight with. Oh, there’s always something to fight with. Just like there’s always a way to lose.
9.
Osaka 02:46
Let’s go die in Osaka. Decompose in the subway’s foreign names. I can’t wait to be lonely. Don’t you want to be forgotten? The three of us in Osaka. At any corner store in Abeno Ward. I can’t wait ‘til I’m sad. Don’t you want to be misunderstood? Let me know if you ever get that low. I know, you’re more than an escape route. Get to thinking, and I’ve always felt this low. I know, you’re not my escape route. Let’s go die across the Bay Bridge, or anywhere I can be a statistic. Don’t you want assurance to do so? If we could thrive in Osaka, find hope and finally afford some space to be lonely, there’d finally be no masking it. Do you feel me hesitate? I don’t want to get back in the car. Do you feel me hesitate? I don’t want to go.
10.
Dodged eyes on the corner. She’s probably my age, a few degrees away from a familiar face. Like your classmate’s sister, from a friend group you once stalked, worked at the mall before either of us had jobs. Which version of me fucked you over? That’s just Opiate Babylon. You’re gonna die on Turk Street. It’s just Opiate Babylon’s sting: this song, this life, is about so much, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s a broken promise land, it smells like burning hope. Irregular sacraments to blur thoughts of your childhood home. Me and the others from Bailey Middle School, they’re gonna forget you, I’m gonna forget you, you’re gonna forget me too. Which version of god fucked you over? You won’t recall hearing this song. Isn’t it odd that you won’t recall hearing this song? Isn’t it odd that you won’t recall hearing this song at all?
11.
A lifetime of dreams led to a dead end. A meadow that spans for hours. A shallow field of foreign flowers. And new friends are there, they bask in the sun. I would go join but all this grass just itches my skin and the person I’ve been. Hands shaking like I lost something, but I don’t know why. But I don’t know why. There is something wrong with me, not the prize. I’m proud of myself, but not how I feel anywhere outside my room. I’d kill for tangible problems. Cause then I’d learn how to solve ‘em.

credits

released August 24, 2020

Lyrics, drums, synths, percussion and vocals by Bryson Schmidt.
Guitars and bass by Bryson Schmidt and Chris Teti.
Produced, mixed and engineered by Chris Teti and Silver Bullet Studios. Mastered by Dan Coutant at Sun Room Audio.

Thanks to Emery Reifsnyder, Ian Schweer, Liz Caputo, Cody Samson, Jack Beyer, Phillip DiGoia, Nina Golik, Jason Rayner, and Wolfie & the Silver Bullet crew.

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Topiary Creatures Nashville, Tennessee

Hi, we're Tope Creach. We play sparkly, maximalist punk rock.

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