I Made You Something

by The Island of Misfit Toys

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1.
Bath 03:51
Baptismal fount You flaunt your bounty ounce for ounce I want her body ouch for ouch Baptismal fount The beads of water are my friends' heads Kissing my neck and chest and making my leg-hair thick with wet And doubly cleansed On the receiving end of your diary when you touch me On the conceiving end of my diary, and it loves me On the careening bends of legality, but it's nothing I signed my soul to some dipshit trolls But I'm bathing and behaving I was handed a diploma after emerging from this cold scholastic coma Excised like squamous cell carcinoma I've got lidocaine throat, I've got 2-ton teeth Pretty much a Green Beret tongue-wreath You can see a jet of running water Circumnavigating the edge of my lifestyle Rinsing the bile off my file I've been exposed to the most loathsome of folks But when you lather me up with hope like it was pricey Lush soap I could buy a water-proof coffee table and live out of my shower So that we could settle down here forever Baptismal fount You flaunt your bounty ounce for ounce I want her body ouch for ouch Baptismal fount The beads of water are my friends' heads Kissing my neck and chest and making my leg-hair thick with wet And doubly cleansed I hear that you reap vast rewards when you vouch for manifold various lords Double-digit virgins or just simple harp-chords But they couldn't apply to my provocative prerogative I wade in my bathtub; it's a poly-God mashup I embrace my latest in health-fucks With a Little Caeser's pizza in Nick Bertelson's pick-up truck And I, I will live with my good metabolism for 1 more year You flaunt your bounty ounce for ounce I want her body ouch for ouch Baptismal fount The beads of water are my friends' heads Kissing my neck and chest and making my leg-hair thick with wet And doubly cleansed On the receiving end of your diary when you touch me On the conceiving end of my diary and it loves me On the careening bends of legality but it's nothing Baptismal fount You flaunt your bounty ounce for ounce i want her body ouch for ouch Baptismal fount
2.
Moral Melt 05:03
I'm apt to crack a jaw and write “pause” in blood on the walls near some bodies I saw This place makes me melt my morals This place makes me melt my morals I'm a skin graft, I'm a new scratch you woke up with Bet you wish you never broke up with me This place makes me melt my morals This place makes me melt my morals I wanna make you think I'm awesome while my awful's playing possum Blatant flotsam, bet you wish you never holed up in me This place makes me melt my morals This place makes me melt my morals I can't be myself without a little bit of help So don't file me with the newly deceased, with the old and diseased Because I, I've got the eyes of the dog-flogged Christ it's my decisive mind, it's me ill at ease I've got a class with you first period I've got an instinct, you've got both your legs spread 'neath the desk, floral horrors under I've got a fly cylindrical I've got a throbbing problem, both my legs bent Tetris-esque, yearning for her summer dress I wouldn't ever forge the facts like I did a few months in the past I don't know mind control on myself, for starters I'm consolidating Bear Hair into bits inside my fists until I made you something It's inside my fists until I made you something So don't file me with the newly deceased, with the old and diseased Because I, I've got the eyes of the dog-flogged Christ it's my decisive mind, it's me ill at ease New developments in my progression: I know exactly who I've been. I thought there was this red badge of self-hate, free from pollution of pride. Could that help me? Oh, crown me uncomely king. It took ten years, five bands, two girls, and one friend to truly make me sing. I'm the sum of my parts, I'm the bright and the slighter sides of my heart. Thelema, Thelema, MY will be done, MY will be done. And that's the closest I can come to an artist's statement.
3.
Angelswarm 05:38
When we move on, we hear sounds like breaking cocoons or pianos freshly tuned, a million new hearts that move in unison We move on like Merrill did when swung or air from collective lungs, cosmos wallflowers left hung up like stars We're culled from love, it was delicately designed and sewn to our insides; the seamstress might just give us shelter If not, I'll claw from the inside in through my fleshy coffin lid; whatever is pushing me will push itself out Each layer of skin is etched with text of every song kept secret Cognitive burns relaying thought through heat an accidental diary When we move on, we'll hear a broad, bright, resonant hum or a deep, dark, desolate one; I guess it all depends on going up or down When we move on, there's no guest list based on your wrongs or the crowd you thrived among; I see inflatable castles filled with little bouncing lights When we move on, I'm going to spy so happily on larval versions of me, baby seeds with questions and lit reading lamps And that's why I sometimes stare at your chest and why I won't do well on your test; I'm intrigued to the point of almost losing it See, sometimes I lay in bed and box my ears and shut my eyes with shirts tied And out of interest and concern, I hold my little breath and hope, hope, hope that's what it's not like when we move on
4.
Sweet Angelswarm take me to the forest floor When I'm too good at playing dead you can drop me here instead 'Cause all the vermin and the worms see me as we see pachyderm They'll section off all of my bones and fashion true organic homes Sweet Artisans and boca-foaming musicians If you've truly built something great don't settle 'til it resonates 'Cause all the vermin and the worms see you as we see pachyderm They'll take up residence inside the body of work you'll leave behind Sweet Architects We haven't seen your faces yet but you're inside me when I sing and each sunbeam brought by morning And every human being I see as a cell in the broadest of bodies all come to watch our churning Earth And tell me do we look anything like a mirror?
5.
Burble 04:52
To live in a body like mine makes each unmanageable man To wish each night to fall inside the palm of something's hand I wish it was wired in me to crawl and to submit To weep to every gentle song Pretend I'm delicate I wish to be kissed deeply and fall into two arms To shrink back down to bath toy and be bounced like a ball of yarn The cast list has been posted I'm the lead and the support The vain, abusive alpha male and the lady that he courts How could you expect me to do all my talents promised? How could you expect perfection when I'm Gemini dishonest? How could I do better than my best? I'm just a kid, I'm just a kid I've always been “Peter! Where are you going? We have work to do. I moved the rock to find you running. I've moved myself to match your inner pace. You're the rock upon which I build my church, the focal center of my wet scope. We have work to do. I can't keep shivering myself 'til crumpled. I miss you, and I forgive you.” And I do what you tell me to because I love you I have to
6.
We get so heavy and we've gotta let it breathe, breathing heavy, heaving levies full of ocean that the continents float in I perceive an eye and a network deep in the center of my Earth-church, gauging our worth, first steps; I'd like to sing to every leaf I see in hope of some sort of Communion, I'll maybe reach to it, let the people concede, let the public ascend, and let the tops of buildings, houses, and trees accept new denizens We hear a sigh and it's a signal, we hear a loud scream from the mantle, it's a pitfall; it's just the first, thankfully, almost like a healthier olympics, meant to unionize the planet, but without the ugly competition Soon enough, higher places filling up, and we look down at the bottom like the ugliness of Sodom, like “I can't believe I spent so much time on the surface of a being determining what my worth it,” after all A human being is a hyphen that's been between the words hole-shaped A human being is a pigpen with a temporary set of landscapes A human being is a rough gem Dig hard to find what's great A human being is a human being is a human being is a human being is This is not how it used to be King of it all now we fall so foolishly Who's to blame? You or me? We live above what life used to call its proud son for centuries They're all stone now, they're all cold now I'm feeling bright and warm. holy sweet Angelswarm slow down, we were right to ascend before its and our bodies broke down Now how about a little less catastrophe? Naturally, the physically unfit refused to move and atrophied in a spectrum cement; their neglect is somewhat a certain kind of blasphemy, without them we're living happily Breathe body breathe if it means we need to leave then we'll leave And we left Now there's common ground, though it's not evident Birthed by the earth; a new human We are heaven sent A human being is a hyphen that's been between the words hole-shaped A human being is a pigpen with a temporary set of landscapes A human being is a rough gem Dig hard to find what's great A human being is a human being is a human being is a human being is And lately, I want to know what bit me to make me sift through ancient history and dog-ear every page that shaped this modern age Because lately, I feel hopeless Hugged hard by soft hypnosis The Earth breathes, we bounce like babies, so we calm down and sleep This is falling in love with something that can't move With a movement based in toothless, half-true shit It's like missing the basket, and still raising the roof It's kid gloves inside the vocal booth We assume it's laced with ruthless, monsoon spit But it just missed the track-list It wasn't telling the truth
7.
Singing 03:05
When I sing I feel whoever's pulling my strings Has fallen asleep on the phone and quietly breathes me his dreams It's their nonsense alive when I sing When I sing I feel whoever's pulling my strings Is tying mine in a knot Until one cathartic release It's puppet-play when I sing When I sing I feel whoever's pulling my strings Is smoothing my features out 'Til I've reverted back to 13 Acne-ridden and scared, so just sing When I sing It's a poly-sensory thing At least for myself, I've found it's a starfish-dish in my mouth It's more than sound when we sing
8.
Scaffolding 09:12
Who put me in this pedestrian hospital? Someone ripped out all my Catholic modules I'm split wide with a head full of sirens and a panoramic picture to watch It's filled with every girl I bit when I kissed looking blue and amethyst and dismissed and it fills me with nondescript song to watch what I did wrong I've got asterisks and footnotes before me How else could I write this story? All my songs have caught the sniffles so this is all I have Lux No one's ever met me, I am a great cloud of unknowing You've only seen ball bearings, you've only seen soft landings No one's ever met me, I am a great cloud of unknowing I'm inside some spells, I'm inside the stairs I've written a book for the kid I am and was of snowflakes in the summer, of lost pockets of time of stiff archaic rhymes, of sun too trite to shine when night filled every eye in oily absolutes of trying to look up to nothing but the night when stars swallowed the sky in muted lullaby and all the ants of Earth turned hard and marble white and centuries went by 'til everybody died I am who upsets me, I am a great cloud of annoying I take reactions badly, I take that badness gladly All my songs have caught the sniffles because my longs have caught the littles My cogs forgot their goggles, I'm all gills and oil spills And when magic spread like garnish looks more and more like garbage I hate in stacks of dishes, in putrid little wish-lists I hate in fleets of buses, in piles of weeping wasn'ts And when passionless and dry, it's 10 o'clock at night So when I'm drowned and soundless, I hope my body's boundless But I feel close to dead both in and out of church both in and out of work, both in and out of bed My dogs are soaking wet with molten lead Wipe off the goo Slide through the slit Burst into white from the Earth like the church that you're worth Lux Aurumque I can't write anything without asterisks. How else could I tell a story? There are always obscurities and details and exceptions that dwell above and beyond the call of duty, no matter what calls I make. No matter where I am, you'll always look like you caught me. The order of operations in my making is comprised of these parts. I remember the color of the coating of a sick throat. I remember screaming from outside, thrown stones landing in rings. I remember being pinned by Oscar and his girls, attempting to cram paraphernalia in my mouth. I remember baptism, walking homeless on a highway, singing something. I remember loving him without knowing the song was about him. I remember impossible lost time stuck in the slimy pit stops of my dreams. I remember those fever dreams in the shower of my house, dreading returning home. I remember capitalizing on moments. I remember being catapulted into the center of a sunflower. I remember waking to be reminded that I'm not, and never will be, special. I remember having to explain the drool in my cup, the stop in my go. I've repressed sports, snow, psychology, the details on the Minzer file, mustard, uncles and cousins, and actual love and sex that no one can speak of without a sinless stoning. It's a bleak winter when you remember that you're the only sinner. It's a dark future when all you want to grip is slicked with blood. Lux Aurumque I'm not a rock and I'm not an island When I'm left alone, I chat with the silence Sure, I'd function and be my own man but don't interpret that as perfect, I can't hold my own hand I can't be happy if I can't make others happy and I can't make myself happy, only calm and content My friends are building my scaffolding They have no idea that they keep me singing So when she's here, I know I've got her and when they're here, I know I've got them When I feel it, I know my heart beats and when I walk, I know I've got street for days When I breathe, I know I've got age and when I read, I've got every page My friends are building my scaffolding They have no idea that they keep me singing out
9.
Architects 07:03
We get so heavy, and we've gotta let it breathe My night proves sleepless I watch a live birth before I go to work Is that you smiling? I thought I knew what I was doing 'til I watched the teeth shoot through in every beam We get so heavy, and we've gotta let it breathe My loose end's leafless The Doctor feels the spin just when he stands That's why he's smiling Then I'm reminded why he's crying I join in; I'm completely fine with it We get so heavy and we've gotta let it breathe Preserve the image of the last vibrant seconds I was clean And I'm still smiling Each notebook's in a drawer Thousands of words do what these pictures should've done Black Done up like a doll Done up like the laminated cover Of my rite-of-passage/social-death-knell Hide in gravy-boat eyes in flying-saucer midnight Bounce, back and forth, up and down Echo-chamber dread You hollow out my head I'm swallowed by my bed You're resting on my shelf You're kissing me goodnight You're wishing me good morning Now tell me, do we look anything like a mirror? I wake up amazed everyday, that in spite of every shortcoming, of every misstep and halfstep, and every debased covenant, and every ripped contract behind that backs of my makers, I'll always be fine. It's like what Ms. Magnusson said, in the darkness of the Guided Study room, pulling me out of my own huddled mass just to tell me I'll always be fine. It's so simple, that after all this, it seems sick, but I'll always be fine. As long as you stay, perched with me on this Earth, waiting to be lifted, I'll always be fine. Now tell me, do we look anything like a mirror?

credits

released August 28, 2015

Recorded and mixed by Alex Burns at Magnetic Twin Recording
Mastered by Jim Demain at Yes Master Studios
Album Art by Bad Ponies, formatted by Andy Hendricks

All songs written and performed by The Island of Misfit Toys

On this album, The Island of Misfit Toys are:
Julia Bard
Mark Jaeschke
Evan Loritsch
Lui Macatual
Mike Nardone
Danny Radovanovic
Anthony Sanders
Audrey Sanders
Ashlee Stewack

The "I Made You Something" Choir was:
Johnny Fabrizio, Clare Teeling, Sarah Bogosh, Lauren Di Vito, Scott Standley, Jake Puleo, Brad Hoffman, Adam Bosarge, Dale McPeek, Ian Sutherland

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