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Creationism

by Weston Payne

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1.
Theories of Creation 03:28
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You're looking at it the wrong way You're too close, stand back Turn it around, give it a day Make sure you're on the right track Flip it upside down, inside out Or just stand on your head Invert the colors choose a new route Completion means it's dead Shift your perception Skew the perspective Unfocus your vision Filter through preferred -isms Try a new paradigm Lose yourself, follow the signs Oblique strategies Organic machines Theories of creation Pollockian Big Bang Or invincible da vinci's Intelligent design is sane Vermeer's camera obscura A pinhole into plato's cave Miracles, occult and magic just what we can't yet explain The line between art and craft The divide unseen blurs smart and crass a precarious rift between saved and shit Our precocious wit floats on waves of spit Like a sailboat without a mast Thoughts on a tedious life raft our callus ballast broke through the hull Of our unbalanced palace seafaring souls So plug the leak, repair the breach Pick the lock on writer's block And If we capsize jump off the side Swim to shore and settle the score Rebuild the vessel out of scraps Clean up the mess of crumpled paper Ruffle the feathers of your cap Shuffle in the hand dealt by your maker
2.
Notes From a Diner 03:45
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'll take the number nine to stay today I'm doing laundry down the block Usually I take it slow and to-go I'm not a fan of the house hot sauce It's crowded in here this morning I'm in here earlier than most weekends I guess most regulars are early birds At this diner where the street bends Right outside the train stop The clientele's all kinds Hopeful lotto players And bumbling nervous guys Families before church Sunday Post-hookup nervous stares Showered laptop professionals And my dirty pen-ink hair The sun hits my eyes Right through that one broken blind I can empathize With my breakfast's sunny side up eyes The Sunday morning waitress Calls you honey, has a crooked thumb Has extra make-up on today I wonder if a suitor will come With a nuanced practiced rhythm The grillman flips a flapjack Chops onions, scatters hash browns All before the toast turns black The coffee is thin and sour I usually don't go for cream But I'll make the sacrifice For the caress of caffeine The eggs are over medium Not easy but it's fine It's greasy, warm, and satisfying And I'm just killing time The sun hits my eyes Right through another broken blind I can empathize With my breakfast's leaking out eyes Snippets of conversation Pass through and intertwine With An article on my phone I listen to pass the time Describing lights on a timer The price of bacon's gone up Something about the weather And Refilling coffee cups "Someone pass the butter" "Which table is near an outlet?" "Hey Craig it's nice to see you You ain't been in in a bit" The family in the corner Is quiet, awkward and tense Maybe one of them is an in-law Or the landlord raised the rent Maybe one of the kids is in trouble For playing baseball in the house Maybe the daughter is upset That her father killed a mouse The sun hits my eyes through a third broken blind I can empathize With my breakfast's chewed up and eaten eyes
3.
Open Road Therapy 05:35
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Got that ache in my gut Got that itch in my spine Got this burning in my lungs From being trapped inside I've been wasting away I've been sick as a dog I've been stuck in this city In a dense unnatural fog But the only medication The only cure for my disease 10 cc's of dirt and asphalt Open road therapy So if I break my bones Splint them with a mile marker Wrap them up in roads And if I cough up blood I need an interstate transfusion O negative type mud If this cancer spreads Give me gasoline drip chemo Highway hospital bed If I need surgery Just Jack me up Rotate my tires Check engine light oil expired The river roads wind and curve Like the shouldered stethoscope Of a trusted family doctor I-80 in a white coat If only I could get a house call Country gravel vaccines A pill for endless gastanks Serum for sleepless dreams I don't get home sick I get road sick I'm Tired of sleeping in my bed But it's my fault That the asphalt's Not where I'm staying instead
4.
Finite (Museum of Babel) 05:14
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Hexagonal rooms Four sides shelved with books A library of fools Stretching out a finite amount For every combination Of letters, numbers, spaces and Punctuation As long as the longest book ever written But gibberish Makes up 99 percent Or more of it Fragmented strings of nonsense But if you wander through And skim enough pages in books on shelves In enough rooms Then you might find Something youe been waiting for Something on the tip of your Tongue but you just can’t remember And every thought you’ll have forever You could find this song Even if i sing it wrong Your final conversations and descriptions of you naked Every big of slang From the future of the lang’ Every scroll from alexandria Text books from rural iowa Every question posed Every answer you don’t know And the future of the nation And what i’ll do on vacation Everything lost in translation And solutions to the problems that we’ve made And if that’s true, what does it mean to create? Now imagine A formula that plots every Iteration Of points in a static Resolution As either red, blue or green A finite gallery Of everything that you could see There’d be every mondrian Every wall scribbled on By a kid with a new box of crayons The shape of ancient human hands Even every word In any font, with any kern Every frame from star wars nine And never given valentines Old blueprints From the house you grew up in But this one has a secret room With everything you never drew Tomorrow’s selfie And the birds and the bees Every single future meme And faces only seen in dreams True prehistoric color schemes And perspectives that picasso painted out Well creating is what finding's all about but Don’t get lost Most of what you see will offend your sensibilities Know when to stop You could wander for years and only ever find the fears You never forgot You might as well be Another chimpanzee Banging on the keys Searching for a mid- Summer’s night dream Banging on the keys You might as well be Another chimpanzee Banging on the keys Banging on the keys
5.
Planar Reincarnation 04:20
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Measure twice, cut once If the back's precise, so is the front Destruction, spinning blades For construction, tools to make Held in place with clamps and glue Building space for when we're two Somewhere you can display your books And share our records in this nook By hand work out the details Sand and shape the dovetails Finess the pieces into place Stress the joints and outer face Brush the stain in even strokes With the grain the wood awoke Planes of lumber brought to life Out of slumber into light Fabricated fruits from a tree Educated for when we're three The elements and skills create A settlement for a future state When all you've got is a hammer Everything looks like a nail And I don't have The tools to measure All these things as clear as air Aspen, cherry, oak or pine Walnut and mahogany Screws and pegs, elmers wood glue Nuanced materiality Chestnut stain, teak or tung oil Satin polyurethane Solvents solve the final step Finished ready to display When all you've got Is a hammer Everything looks like a nail And I can't shape Objective standards There's no saw for when and where This tree grew From an acorn the ground Teeming with life A center of sounds Spring robins nesting Blue egg supporting branch Squirrels anxious sleeping In their elevated ranch This home was built From trees born in the ground Still Nurturing life And so many sounds Generations of families Marking growth spurts on the wall Corner spiders and tenant cats The bark of an old family dog Axes, ropes and chainsaws The harbingers of change Not death, reincarnation Refined to useful planes Yearly rings become the grain Always remember how it grew Informed by all its prior lives Constructing something new
6.
Glory 03:19
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I can never remember Which side of this vessel Has a more picturesque view Of la guardia And if boats are special Or planes use port and starboard too From this height it seems unreal There's no feeling of vertigo No distinction between winding Rivers and serpentine roads Patchwork grids too small to see Fractured towns and endless seas I look for the glory On the clouds below But the sun is on the wrong side To see our shadow But somewhere in view From across the aisle Suspended refracting vapor Moves all the while With each fraction of motion In individual eyes Always a different circle Though static as we fly So I look for the glory A halo spectrum of light Surrounding our shadow But it's still out of sight Making the final descent Two dimensions turn to three As the skyline rises to meet us It's scape scrapes our current scene Gripping the armrests As the brakes and engines roar Pressure drops, my ears pop As the landing gear grinds forward And the lurch when we hit the floor And we're here when we weren't before I looked for the glory On the clouds above the sun was on the wrong side But there's glory in our love somewhere out of view From across the east river You heard me overhead Maybe you felt a shiver With each fraction of motion In your deep brown eyes Unconditional circles Reflecting clear blue skies So I look for the glory A halo spectrum of light From metal birds and mountaintops But it's just to my right
7.
What Sticks 02:53
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I can pretty much remember Every song I've ever heard Even if I forget the words I can whistle the tune Even shitty pop hits Overplayed at the city pool I hated to look cool Are occupying room I'm reasonably confident I can sing every song i wrote If I get some luck to float I'll get the chord changes too Even those sad sap melodies And cliche turns of phrase I can still see the page As if it's ink is brand new But if asked to recite Any film I really liked Any book that changed my life Or words said late at night I only barely recall All these pages on the wall Seems I failed to install Hardly anything at all Well I am what I've eaten In a literal sense But the literary nutrition Is a large percent Of who i am despite the loss Of detailed specifics All shrouded in a hazy gloss But deep and intrinsic yet somehow These melodies are clear Full resolution Inside my inner ear Everything is there Orchestration, structure, tone Sure, I loop and skip a bit But the song's inscribed in stone But what sticks Emotional impressions Formative connections The best bits Sculpt evolving worldview Planting seeds from trees grew No bull shit Filter out the filler Chill with just the killer Yeah the Things that stick All that ever really mattered After the noise has all been shattered
8.
Logical Emotion 04:34
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Attractive people smiling and laughing In a perfect suburban home A deep voiced, funny voice over And me, alone and stoned This manipulated grin I hasten to wipe off my face An insurance advertisement Has invaded my mental space Entangled in each other's airs Wrapped in hair Picking up on subtle signs We can't describe more often have I seen a cat reason than to laugh or weep So soften up the edges break outta the grid and fall back asleep An instant translation of a glint of light bounced off your eye A logical emotion in the flickered lids and mouth pulled to the side Subtle evocations mirrored on your subconscious face Empathic obligations so neglected in a digital space Connected circuit of touch Eye contact infractions Inflected reactions Place a price on emotions Monetize your laughs A few bucks for a chuckle A knee-slapper earns wads of cash Place your sadness in a spreadsheet Categorize all your bad days Input functions for all your stressors Crunch the the numbers of your malaise Anger compartmentalized Left to die But consume its withered shell Show and tell
9.
Creationism 01:31
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what if god could come from us With a chisel or a brush? What if the father was in the wood That the son made something of? What if Satan bought and sold? And turned music into gold? What if the value really lies In the stirring of our souls? But for my part I don't believe in god So I might as well Have faith in art

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released May 20, 2019

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Weston Payne Chicago, Illinois

Solo project of Daniel Weston Payne. Usually some sort of mix of electronic and natural elements, songs about driving and philosophical thought experiments

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