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Failed Gestures

by Strange Lipsticks

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1.
Wrecking 02:01
2.
Hands 03:56
My hands smell like your hands As I’m lying in the middle of the bed All my plans look like loose strands I squeeze tightly; they go limp I go red. Oh I want my plans to smell like you I really and quite truly do I want your hands where are your hands To hold on to The dreams eat at my seams Pulling threads in the middle of the dark All the creams for my esteem All the pills lining shiny boxes Oh I want my plans to smell like you I really and quite truly do I want your hands where are your hands To hold on to My hands look like dead hands Limply lying where you left Taking exams to measure how this expands Inside my head there is a mess; inside my chest there’s been a theft Oh I want my plans to smell like you I really and quite truly do I want your hands where are your hands To hold onto My throat sore to swallow, Pulling at the pillows chewing every thread My throat sore to swallow Lying naked in the remnants of our bed
3.
Wales 04:30
There’s no more words to read, even less to write As I am sighing and crying every inch of the night Clocks tutting pointed and glaring all day As I compose a new email to someone turning away I am skinning my knuckles, imagine touching your face My words coming backwards, stuck in the same place And now I’m just a stain on your sheets And how you adjust just beggars belief And now I’m just a stain on your sheets And how you adjust just beggars belief Oh I am trying to sleep I am trying to keep away Was it true when you said Always your girlfriend In Wales? All the love songs I wrote have now turned blank Stall with tears on my thighs when I am trying to.... read Sick to my fingertips I scroll past your face Sighing in piss-lifts for all the things gone to waste Laying my emotions like eggs at your feet A laconic smirk as you start to stampede Embarrassing imbalances you are tired of my name And now your eyes look like strangers although your face looks the same I am skipping tablets like stones To make me horribly ill And I told you these things And yet you kissed me, still I am skipping tablets like stones To make me horribly ill And I told you these things And yet you kissed me Oh I am trying to sleep I am trying to keep away Was it true when you said Always your girlfriend In Wales? What were the words I thought I heard you say? What were the words that made you turn away?
4.
Eat 03:29
I’ve been eating all my greens and then licking up the plate I’ve been sporting certain injuries to make you hesitate I’ve been running my wrists under taps I’ve been texting all my feelings to anyone who’ll ring me back I’ve been pocketing the pieces of torn notes found round my feet I’ve been flipping through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat? I’ve been flipping through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat? I’ve been tipping under strip lights, just trying to relax I’ve been asking all my mirrors but they always choose to crack I’ve been loving leaving early every night I’ve been singing, screaming lovely when I hear that you’re alright I’ve been chalking round your outline when I catch you on the street I’ve been flipping through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat? I’ve been forking through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat? I’ve been serving someone other, entertaining all the rest I’ve been perusing all my bruises as they freckle on my chest I’ve been swerving my attentions drift bereft I’ve been turning up my nose to the suggestions that are left I’ve been teasing your tongue, twist then shifting when we meet - I’ve been flipping through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat? I’ve been flipping through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat? I’ve been flipping through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat? I’ve been frowning through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat? I’ve been forking through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat? I’ve been through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat? I’ve been through the menu, what’s the tastiest to eat?

about

An EP about endings.

credits

released November 8, 2019

Songs from 2015 (RIP), recorded in 2017 at Manic Avenue and then sat on for a bit.

Track one is unoriginal, all others written by Strange Lipsticks.

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about

Strange Lipsticks London, UK

Just another DIY dyke crying on speakerphone.

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