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Acrobat

by Ice Giants

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1.
St. Least 05:09
She’s the first chic barista, the new Mona Lisa Topical fashionista, the Virgin Maria Cynical of context, president of all deflection She’s a fierce ballerina, but plays so much meaner on her own So the moment I get petty, I’ve lost She’s the hipster completa, so artist, no diva Into shoegaze and streamers, but nothing much cleaner Prays to cartoon villains, says she don’t believe in velvet Had a plaid jacket relapse, and rides on her fixie on and off Still the moment I get petty, I’ve lost Tight lips, she wants me to sew them Can’t choose, the mermaid, the devil
2.
Jimmy Carter 04:23
I'd like to like the likes of me, the likes of me, I couldn't be A plan I had at 23, fucked by a tree, fucked by a tree Like crippled dogs, and mason jars The common has nothing in common with me Credit cards, and shitty songs My morals might backtrack indefinitely I'd like to like all that I'll be, all that I'll be, I guess I'll see Hidden fees and Aura Lee, I'm beat as hell at making peace Michigan is Michigan Is Michigan, da na na na Freezer pops, and octagons I found a backyard too solemn for me Mulberry teeth, mulberry teeth So turned around, so turned around I'm on TV, I'm on TV I used to be like Jimmy Carter I’d like to like that you could see, my tongue is tied and shirt is clean Garden gnomes and herbal tea, and where the hell is Kankakee? Megaman and minimarts The motto has words too tiny to read I made deal on stubborn ground And then I backed down intentionally I wouldn't bite, I wouldn't bite I wouldn't bite, but I'd fuck around I’m on TV, I’m on TV I used to be like Jimmy Carter Hands on my back, I’m pushing up I’ll say I’m fine, but I’m freaking out
3.
To the acrobat wall and the pastor in front of it To the bald boilermaker with pearls and his son on his back I got lost in the mass ‘Til I found it all crumbled in black I broke down in Kentucky but felt so unbreakable To the absentee mother of Heaven and Hailee To the king who took speed with the Prince of Peace under the tracks I felt out of my mind Still I promised, I promised, I’m fine I broke down in Kentucky but felt so unbreakable It’s my awful descension down family lines My padre, I’m bending so badly I broke down in Kentucky but felt so unbreakable
4.
There’s anything but Orson Welles in my hands Like outer space and 90’s punk-rock sedans Still I hope they say I’m sane for the most part If I had a hypeman I’d be more focused With a little amnesia I’d be okay Impossible that Michael, you’d die so young Your mother told me over Italian one Or two of the most brave things that I’ve heard If I had a raft, man I’d cry my eyes out And float on over wherever you lay I’d paint my walls With a pinup of Magdalene And pray to be more cavalier I used to think that God’s the girl of my dreams But carcasses corrected me, so it seems I never got the hang of devotion If I had a nightmare it’d be in Eden And Eve would court me while Adam’s away I’d paint my walls With a pinup of Magdalene And pray to be more cavalier If I had a hypeman I’d be more focused If I had a hypeman I’d be okay I’d paint my walls With a pinup of Magdalene And pray to be more cavalier
5.
It might’ve been on those steps in Brooklyn Or I hit a nerve with Clare in L.A. Still I point the blame on Book & Snake and everything I couldn’t see But you see that I see that you’re living in Lynwood again There might be a world where you’re still in Portland And I’m kind of bored, but you’re doing fine To think I’d have missed the sideman’s dobro weaving us into the doorjamb And I’d never have showed you how fast I can run on my hands Can’t whistle at all Too good for opinions I swear, oh I swear I’ve been eating your devil for days Can’t cross it all off From boxes to billions I swear, oh I swear I’ve been eating your devil for days Well Sam I suppose I’ve tiptoed around it I went to your home when I left my own And look how I’ve spent the last 8 years pretending like everything’s okay And I never did tell you how thankful I was for your fam Can’t whistle at all Too good for opinions I’m stuck, oh I’m stuck in your Amish hat and your gold chains Can’t cross it all off From boxes to billions I’m stuck, oh I’m stuck in your Amish hat and your gold chains
6.
Your fingers look so ambivalent now Your teeth, so impossibly short I had a dream in a feverish way About a lover that I’ve never known Make sure you call me, you call me I might need some distance, some distance I hate to talk, hate to talk, hate to talk When your palate is tense, I suppose What do you hate, do you hate, do you hate about sound? Is it something you’ve heard of before? Where’d you forget me, forget me? And I’ll put my money, my money where What’s face to face, face to face, face to face When you bargain with intricate lines? What can we keep, can I keep, will you keep? Do you think I think too much? I’ll hope you check me, you check me ‘Cause I’ll put my money, my money where

credits

released June 6, 2018

Written, recorded, and mixed by Ice Giants
Mastered by Ian Sefchick at Capitol Studios
Ambient sounds by Sharif Youssef
Violins in Inez, KY (Interlude) by Bryan Bourdeau
Album artwork by Adrian Leo
Photography by Mak Sarich

Additional thanks to John Leo, Natalie Huizenga, Mike Errico, Evan Munz, Taylor Charest, and Cuchulain Kelly

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Ice Giants Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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