I've been here before

by Hazy

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02:22
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04:06

about

A dichotomy between craziness and tranquility, with some nostalgia thrown in, like all my albums...

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released June 11, 2011

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about

Hazy Indiana

I've lived for a relatively short amount of time...during that time I've experimented with lots of music, I've written a lot and gone on various websites under a variety of names. Now I am Hazy, and I've been Hazy longer than I've been anything else as far as music goes.

My songs mostly reflect weather, atmospheres, or personal nostalgia. Some make no sense at all (especially my earlier ones)
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Track Name: The 90-mph shqip
You go to a store in the middle of the day
hotel lobbies and gas cars stay
banging on tin cans, pushing on keys
making things look just as they seem
on the half hole, we put it in the dark
multicolored manuscripts, beefcake shark
rock sacks open up and chromatose holes
produce egg records in backstreet bowls
turnpike lettuce leaves on the half shell
double barrel worksheets make the cat swell
and and no you don't know how to work this complicated
copy machine so get a quart and make yourself a weighted
home to stay at
my phone will play back
your bones will shake that
microphone machines are way wack

we build floors for children
it's colloquial snap chillin
out on boxed egg miasmas
psychadelic glowing plasmas
pledge plants seeds as they're
growing out on the sack
we drive nails in gas trails
and get our money back
pickle jars smash on the ground beneath my feet
turning up to lumberjack leopards who make the street beat
pavement ripping up telephone poles and celluloid strings
make the wind accompany me when the operator sings
make shift trap doors and hurricane variety stores
selling bulk manuscripts and mutilated gas whores
plumbing on the mainstream
weighted like an i-beam
tipping slightly i made it scream
like lacerated gangrene scenes
Track Name: Frontier
drag me across the jetski masters
gotta tin can owl spray thing to make it last
her water machine was broke, and my stuff was all over
on an aluminum foil half alive moon rover
believe yourself true, you will make a red knee
when the masochist flew, he was planted in a tree
so parks and recreation society willl degrade
into many different sections of a railroad blade
indianapolis crosses over to taller grass sprouts
nauseating fried plastic movin my stomach about
as i walk into a pool of oxygen and smoke
i get strange looks from people breakin' farmed artichokes
tall thing that scare me, never will freeze over
got my aluminum foil half alive moon rover
speed limits and swallow tails
motorcycle train derails
and my box trap always fails
cuz of the the blind man who follows whales
be unspecific in your sunset songs
making everything that can seem like it's going wrong
why is everyone so down in this banged up city
because hot fish parks smoke out their high-horse pity
buy junk car trucks, gas cities and aurora
borealis of propane. I'm a shark and my remora
is a copy-cat documentary of eyelashes
cleanin off my ottoman-supported TV boxed-matches

Hey now
sprouting like a tree
don't tell me stuff like that isn't relevant to me

slow down
asphalt burns the sky
deserted in a pavement plane no time to wonder why
Track Name: Milano
say kind things to a man who cant be brought
to escalade himself over a simple thought
the doctor told him penecillin would work
but once again his insides bugged him as they started to jerk
jump around on the roof of an inside store
like a cigarette burning in a woodshop core
i construct these towers as if they were coming from the sky
and they will dance in the fire, or at least they will try
there is difficulty in bycicling in the ground
and drop shadow scuba divers seem to have found
inside a pig iron clam on the bottom of the sea
are things like gold incrusted bite marks that are valuable to me
light engines rev and proceed to the starting line
while the rain still falls in this little house of mine
the undertaker writes a notebook of legitimate views
he hands it to the house keeper who he know will refuse

take me back, elevator city bus
to the place i came from
to the sound of maximus
what does it do, when my hands are in the air
i'll bust up the spatial place like bell air
fresh onion dust fresh plates at home
make a sound to the distorted rocks that are shown
get up on the ship like a mariachi man
or get down in the dungeon keeper screamin 'cyan!'
Track Name: Insect
there's something creeping
in the back of the earth
something warning me
trying to give birth

grandeur of a skyscraper so high
made out of mud and we all know why
in the depths, a empire thrives
crawling with millions of lives

serve the queen, who lives at the final frontier
deepest place, human fear

next time you set foot on a linoleum floor
with granite walls reflecting the rectangular lights on the ceiling
people walking, all to one horizon
extending beyond, where are we going?

extending to the sky, these pillars of light
shining off of rushing cars, and clouds in the nights
an orange glow rushes through the atmosphere
and now we know, we're all here
Track Name: Humidity Fog
what you don't know
is why i have to go
why i lie low
tell me yes or no

we'll dive into the sea
and plunge to the bottom you and me
explore a shallow mind
and see what we can find

you never see it coming you turn your back and watch out to behave
how people tell you to through mediums that you always crave
acting like who you think you are but through the mirrored wall you'd take
all of your medications and things so your desires don't ache

unable to cope with unmanufactured things not in your mind
but in your life you're an addicted person an addiction confined
to your own freedom that you think you have but you wouldn't listen
to anyone because you prefer to bask and glisten
Track Name: Rain Time
http://books.google.com/books?id=q71jhLcPd8gC&pg=PA183&dq=kafka+the+cell&hl=en&ei=KMvzTZitDMS_tgfryLT9Bg&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1&ved=0CCoQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q&f=false
Track Name: Emerald City
Emerald City
there were snowflakes over the sea,
they saw it was coming but they didn't see me
they saw the bombs a'droppin', flames a'hoppin'
drippin' down from the corridors of misery
Bob Ben's combing out his weary eyes
waiting for the raindrop from the sound of the skies

but that was back in the killing times
when there were people still alive
me and Bobby Ben waited out the storm
for a short time

Bob Ben kept with him a rocking chair
several kinds of opiates
and several roommates that lived upstairs
in the corridors of his estate
Bob Ben had a pig pen, dope and colored wheels
he lived out in the wasteland, where I met him in my early years
he was hangin' around a newspaper stand, with a cigarette in his long white hand
he said "son, I'll take you to the promised land"

that was back in the killing times,
when there were people still alive
me and Bobby Ben waited out the storm
for a short time

One day he gets a knock at the door
never seen her face before
she says the dust has settled
and the waves have all rolled down.

invitation to sit on the highest tower,
with servants around on every corner,
clap their hands for peace and order
and sow their empty seeds.

Long after the killing times
when all the other men have gone
a simulacrum of me sits under the sea
sings dead Ben's song.