undrgrnd americns

by ::leslie jill helpert º≠º

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the plant you gave me it is still living and that's cuz baby it don't need nothing the string of rosary you left for praying mala beads and sage they are still holy. but i'm irreparably transformed i wake after just laying down to the old red trucks with their names worn on their sides who don't cease to stop on the neighbors with their hammers. the sea-duck's crying for the ocean and that's cuz honey this is the mid-land somebody caught it for another somebody's birthday to live in their swimmingpool and feed on Koi fish But I'm exactly where i came from i wake on the battle field of my own reason my body calls for that cool cool mud that's put out for the swine but not for I.
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did my body offend you as it bended around you was it cold was it old was it missing a soul did it ring of a thing like a church in the spring in the hills in the south of france, in your mouth? and while this could be good did it give you guilt for such pure love, for you, goes unfelt you're sleeping on the street sometime diminutive and self-effacing you said "you're just right about everything, I'm no man I have no ball I can't commit to it at all. You just gave your heart to a stranger you just blew the little bit of danger you just ate the ash you just made an out and old cigarette laugh." Standing upright in the mirror holding the last of the fat of your thighs questioning nothing but the ghost of history. Did my body bolero, was it lasso'd and sparrowed lune-de-clare, did it slare, where you even there? did you call in Avante, cuz it's what you want til Aprés, when we pray, holy fucking man, madre-de-dios, dee-ay. Oh you're sleeping on the street sometimes took the train to berlin just to be abandoned in a city where no one stops yu where you can for a week cease seeking uno suerte sihk. eloquent, staged in a dress plummeting head-long into a fresh collection of oleander baby your first word was maybe. Did my body offend you as it bended around you was it cold was it old was it missing a soul did it ring like a thing a church in the spring in the hills in the south in france in your mouth and while could be good did it give you guilt for such pure love to you goes unfelt.
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well we're all holding on to my string/strength some motherless talent i'd raised in a cage when you come back to me you see invariably that I've changed through the window 'tween my legs you have seen well we're all holdling on to my strength some mother'd beast, talent-in-a-cage when you come back between my thighs invariably you look in the eyes of my change.... well we're all holding on to my string a basterd-esse talent i'd raised in a cage when you come back to me you'll see how i change you see that i've changed what you loved well i lost it, for it was my dead skin. well we're all holding on to my strength some mothered talent i'd raised in cages when you come between my legs invariably you see how we've changed.
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fucking loop 09:09
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backfire 01:32
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about

This is an un-released sketch of an album, and if i weren't being moved by a very broadminded deity at the moment i'd likely edit this un-released gathering of material "ideas" out from the pool of music released to the "general public". But honestly, some of these sonic ideas I've jived with more than the most "finished" and "produced" musics I've recorded....so, maybe you'll find something here. Many of the tracks I made an "album only" purchase... cuz they're short and just segway moments.

credits

released February 1, 2008

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about

::leslie jill helpert º≠º New York, New York

<---a non-deductive anachronymph, meaning, mostly "of a chronologically inconsistent hemimetaboly". she makes candy out of earthsap, rudders and thunder ----->

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