Broken Samaritan and Needle​-​hand Pedestrian

by Wild Trees

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $5 USD  or more

     

1.
2.
3.
03:47
4.
03:32
5.
6.
06:14
7.

credits

released November 3, 2012

Recording, Production, Writing, Mixing & Mastering (Everything, even the art) by Wild Trees
Pairing Vocals on Stuffcore by Benjamin James Cook.

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Wild Trees Concord, North Carolina

contact / help

Contact Wild Trees

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: Broken Everyone
Broken glass eye, have you taken into consideration the view?
Serrated thighs, do they love you like I do?
You made no sigh, you just continued your work.
"I'd die for you, specifically for you, and that's what real lovers do"

I wish everyone was just like that.

Broken glass eye, have you seen the map they tried to make?
Tapestry sky, stringing you up by your brown veins.
Have you ever choked on the ocean's pull?

I wish everyone was just like that.
Track Name: Cupcake Heart Boy
There's a boy with a cupcake heart, he's writing down all his bitter memories for the sake of his art and his sanity, someone get this man some self control, stat.
He's stuck in his home, cramped up in his room, with his little brothers working everyday to stuff their mouths with stuff and stuff and stuff and stuff.
He's got his work boots on, he's got his mind set straight in his little cage, like a lovebird phase, if we don't know his safeword then he won't be okay and that's how it goes,
he wants to be comfortable and satisfied, don't we all, it's ugly and absurd.
Like a poetry cattle call.

I opened up his heart, there was just a tv, it said it missed me.
Then I stopped watching tv, then I stopped watching tv.
Then that television wrote me a song,
So vacant and wrong.
It had textures like fingernails and prongs,
but it sounded like a blur.

I speak like a three page essay,
I copy and paste love,
I advertise professional forgiveness
But I can't forgive anyone
I speak like a three page essay,
I copy and paste love,
I dream in HGtv,
and I'm the tree by the sweet little cottage screaming:
"Oh, Why can't I breathe? Why can't I move?"
Track Name: TumbleWeed
All hail the romantic image unique
of contemporary quota physique.
internet, magazines, modeling, all tv, stop killing our women please.
Url, give me more. Jpg, kiss me now.
Tumbling, broken foot, tumbling, what to put, I stepped on my glasses hard.
Recognize, Beauty eyes.
Staring at the naked form, of everything i'm supposed to be.
frozen in a polaroid, skinny and tits galore.
The sales of mirrors has decreased.
Kill me society.
Have mothers forgotten how to teach?
Love yourself, lovingly.

Prideless sex in high school parking lots.
What'd you expect from self-respect?
Advertisements of nicotine hunger forces.
Raped your virginity on a copper bed.
Prideless sex in venue parking lots.
What'd you expect from self-respect?
Advertisements for nicotine hunger forces,
gave your innocence in a stranger's car.

Welcome to the internet, everybody hates themselves.
Welcome to CNN, media murder channel ten.
Welcome to MTV, love yourself separately.
Track Name: Stuffcore
Would you rather them kiss the costume or the skin?
Blushing up garbage like it's cool to sin.
Scheduling new doctors for blind date medicine,
Nothing says cured like stethoscope lips.
All these suits fit fruitlessly as a mouth swelled with hives,
don't they itch. Don't they itch!?
We'll clog your brain with commercials!
We'll feed your children plastic!
We'll sell you a philosophy, half-price! Fantastic!

Question: Are you ready to kiss a gun?
Answer: Like an only begotten son.
We're considering you for the Hostage position.
We're considering you for scissorhand physician.
Is your mouth a briefcase with a 401 charm?
Is your heart a crop for the american fuck farm?
Welcome to the office, your name tag says 0-1-0-1-0111.

Corporate jean jacket in a lawn chair at home, "we're drinking blue ribbon from an old arm bone!"
Hybrid? Yeah!
Cigarettes? Yeah!
Tattoos? Yeah!
Oh! Yeah!
Crashing your bestfriends car: fashion from the latest twelve-story building.
Your tailor can cut off an inch or two, so everyone at the office can see your blood-bought wristwatch.

Question: Are you ready to kiss a gun?
Answer: Like an only begotten son.
We're considering you for the Hostage position.
We're considering you for scissorhand physician.
Is your mouth a briefcase with a 401 charm?
Is your heart a crop for the american fuck farm?
Welcome to the office, your name tag says 0-1-0-1-0111.

Cough, cough, how's the family? (I'm sorry, I'm late.)
Track Name: Kick and Take
My best friend is being executed by his own skin, hatchet-in-hand. Dripping poems, choking on maternal pollutions. Ripping out bones, crippled for a solution. I had my hands made out of gold. There were moon tears in my words is what I was told. Platinum suggestions from the soul. I can't repair wounds if I'm not even whole.

"Don't you try it son, don't you try it boy"
"It won't work"

"You can't heal anybody"

AHHHHHHHH, why can't I help anybody?

I met this girl who had a tumor in her throat, when she spoke everyone in the room felt cold. She just lost her father the other day, but he couldn't find his way home, he'll be okay. So, I tried to make a pill from my heart and it exploded into a million parts. The confetti looked just like a child descending from the sun like a big, big smile.

I am the most useless swiss army knife (available for mail order).
Track Name: Adequate Samaritan
I'm sorry you lost your dog in the fire that took your home.
I'm sorry your wife died right in front of you. The funeral was unbearable.
If I could make you whole again, I'd break my aloe vera skeleton
in attempt to heal your heavy skin, in attempt to heal your worn out wounds.
I can't remember your voice dad, I can't remember your voice.

You're my brokenhearted father, and I'm your sad samaritan son.
I keep pushing on the mess of vines
called the chests of Broken Everyone.