1. |
Wood
00:43
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2. |
Rose Parfe
01:34
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Circular path angelic singular dissective
Angular objective microbic similar darting expectant trivial exacting
Protracted fabricated specious grammatic corpuscle fantastic
Exaggerative dissimilar didactic pineal fathoming
Grateful acerbic preventative presentation present prescient
Vitamin D luxury sales expository trivial
Advantageous gelatin jackknife prenatal firstborn
Earthbound basilisk, creepy retinal energy deceived
Cretinous pulmonary venal tributary confused
Preventative vestibule exemplary
Proposed pragmatist pre-examination posture presentation pretender
Efficacious insularly diaspora eventually tire pre assembled
Trust governing basic extra freedom besieged
Psychosis prismatic fateful gentry disseminated poet forever
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3. |
Bellacabra
02:50
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Dear bellacabra
To my sweet sweet. Oh my goodness, this is extreme nice. I have happiness so high, that the jesus is looking high. My self is growing big with the joy now that i find you. So many blessings. I see the bear cub and i think of you. A forest of orange marmalade is inside my liver to sweeten this me. I always rubbing the chopstick like you remember? Hehe. You h my darling. This is so many time is see the berry bush and my heart is filling with cheese. Yet i also many sadness because there is a big whole in my head. Without my darling dear, i am nothingnessity. Nothing. So far, the sailing ship of water coming out of my ocular when i see the leftovers. The pork skewers, and chicken taco you leave make me sick in my stomach. Then i run to the bathroom and many droppels fall from my face into the sink. I think, will belacabra ever come back? When is the belacabra come to me? So we can share taco and seafood basket once more. Remember what you say me? That our hearts are now join together like conjoined twin. If one of us fall from balcony, the other will be hurt too. I do not want this. Please bela, if you are so sadness that want leap, you must come to me and we are together against. I see the apple turnover you leave. Thank you. I promise to cherish it. The seafood hemoglobin is fresh smell still. I look at your pictionary and i love think about your hot veins flashing me next to my chest. There is sensational stars in sky today. Whenever i see the baby whale painting, i think about you. It was extraordinary that your mommy talk to me. She is so nice!!! I sent her surprise birthday cake for mail yesterday. Hopefully she gets in time. Anyways, please write your bubby back, and dont forget to dous perfume odor on your good luck charm. Sumo wrestler culture is alarming!! Hahaha!! Your bubbles,
Baba
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4. |
White and Black
01:25
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5. |
Survive
03:11
|
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|
Run away, don’t be afraid, go where you won’t be known
Somewhere safe, like in a cave, where creatures live with you at home
Run away, inside your brain, your senses your revolving doors
Oh dear me. Oh spare me. All my cares, all my worries. All my woes, are froze in a ball of mellow. Drama. Leave it for your mama. Give it to the birds in broken chunks of bread crumbs. Look outside. What’s inside? A grapefruit salad and a seafood surprise. Instead of cake, instead of treats, a sizzling soirée of undigested meat. Truly a travesty. Truly a myth. Truly a mythical miracle. Lyrical, empirical, theoretical, hysterical. Where to go, where to go? Know one knows. No one knows. See inside, a seafood surprise? A brain map, skulls, a mental roadmap. Extraneous exorbitant expedited trap. Red seas, left of waves. Right of waves, cave in, downward, downward, downward, until the sky recedes and a cake of high ridges saves, Middleton moves in symmetrical slaves. Pouring forth geysers and mazes and finally staves. A heart, w/a “1” and spades. Leverage from knaves. Or graves. Or paved tract of a rectangular wade. Stained. Forever, forever stained. With a heart and 1. Electrical waves.
Run away, inside your brain, your senses your revolving doors
Run and hide so you can survive the pains the world has in store
Somewhere safe, your home arcade, a link to your childhood soul
Oh oh oh, survive with your soul
Whose afriad, to reach you o.k., at least you won’t be all alone.
By freight, by train, by an aeroplane, by the way I won’t let you know
Whose to say, what’s wrong or o.k., when love is what I’m in for
Just in, by the way, a news syndicate, showed pictures of where you did go
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6. |
Z
01:47
|
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She gives it her greatest, Just so that she exists
dont know why, Im her one guy
Guess thats her way, Wont debate it
Whats the use, bein' famous, why would anybody care
Whats the truth's what my fate is, Whats not up in the air
Knowin' what youths created is what helped keep things fair
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7. |
Exit
00:41
|
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|
Disarmed and dismembered
A no one remembers
How low you descended, to go on distended
A bloated ex-villain of foreign irreverance.
Unsheathed in a nightmare and on a precipice of unseemly denatured excoriated existence
Bleeding, exuding, bones are protruding, protracted by violent exceedingly silent
Accustomed to hate and feeling depraved
Enforced with a sallow skinned viscous escape
Fleeing and worried, no moral in story
Left fleeting and frightened corrupted history
A faint warmth remiss, you never exist
To see who you hate be enslaved in abyss
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8. |
Water
00:46
|
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|
i am be water
Where way plant i?
may?
was go a and made see each
tell people number with down
that know name Yes, by this
your We about make?
follow first more picture
say city here baby
and A dog are yours is went
some "come or.? it can
from small us there to they you
so have word a ask great live
day learn.
Prestidigitation of father me
one around has take up My
Read them over"
|
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9. |
Solitude
00:48
|
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10. |
...in the dark
01:10
|
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|
People are losing the war in their brain
Just cant take anymore of the pain
Something has got to give
Finding it hard to live
People are losing the war in their brain
Just cant take anymore of the pain
Something has got to give
Fighting too hard to live
|
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James Peter Pham Carroll Irvine, California
I started taking piano lessons at 7. At 10, I started writing songs. At 14, I got my first guitar. As a teenager and into my
late 20's, I played in bands. From my late 20's to my 40's, I've been a solo musician; sometimes as "Lamposts". All of my artistic skills are primarily self taught.
98% of this music was written, performed, recorded and mixed by me. All artwork and photography is original.
... more
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