Fell asleep without noticing
Morby ripped up the sheets
he licks
between our lips
got dropped off in the morning
the car slid so peacefully
minivan stick of butter
before the traffic
June keeps coming out of my hands
like a different version of me writing it
but it's already July 18th
Morby doesn't hold his breath
on purpose
The blisters on the bottoms of my toes
feel worthless
baby our dog smells like dead worms
again
will we ever scrape the surface of our best
intentions
Keep trying to wake up early
and accomplish something before 3:30
sweating to soften
the edges
of your trapezoidal bedroom
Got dropped off in the morning
we all opened our doors so slowly
they stepped back
to look at me
sidewalk smile
wrestling
never know where to look when we're hugging
sticky and sad like airline cookies
all I remember
are the shapes
of their glasses on their faces
Her glasses are the same shape
as the bangs on her forehead
his glasses are the same shape
as his cheeks when he smiles
their smiles bend the same way
as the roads we used to live on
they drop me off to go live on a road
they've never been on
Morby Morby doesn't hold his breath
on purpose
will we ever scrape the suuurface
of our beeest intentions
time moves as quickly as Morby's little feet
he's pulling he's pulling he's pulling onto Melrose
Morby, you smell like worms again
will we ever scrape the surface
of our best intentions
This sweet, mournful “loose concept” album from folk artist Ian McCuen tracks a journey across the bleak landscape of American life. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 22, 2022
A vibrant vision of "Central Americana" from the Costa Rica-based artist, blending heartland devotionals with playful Tropicália grooves. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 27, 2022