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about
Written and recorded by Low Temperature Civics.
Piano and vocals by Gabriel Curtin.
Guitar and clarinet by Hugh Shanahan.
Bass Guitar by Matt Fairbridge.
Drums and percussion by Alex Fairbridge.
Choir vocals by Mia Tinkler, Alex Vella-Horne and Garbi Fernandez Solè.
Tracked by Jethro Curtin
Additional tracking by Gregor Kompar, Vito Lucarelli, Hugh Shanahan and Alex Fairbridge.
Mixed and mastered by Mikey Young.
Low Temperature Civics font by Dennis Grauel.
lyrics
he spins resin at the alley
joysticks drones after dark
while I’m catching mist from the irrigation
mimicking the arc
of missiles and explorations
that punch holes into the sea
or keep another hemisphere burning
or grant good grace to property
greening the running track
next to the pizza shop I live by
in the morning it’ll be deserted
but I’ve been walking here at night
past the families on the pavement
and the worker’s traffic lights
I’ve been listening to music
I’ve been directing how I see
with playlists and weed
until the confettied safety glass seems sweet
I know he’s pulverising
someone in a nation far away
to keep the surplus churning
to keep the rental pay
in the morning I’ll be sleeping
in sheets
when I wake up I’ll peel back
my sheets
I see weapons in the sprinklers
trace a different kind of blast
water curtains melting lights from laptops
bluing bedrooms in the dark
until I can’t feel the world beyond me
mesmerised only by the curve
like when we were adjacent in the alley
watched him twist the ball to make it swerve
spinning late into the pins
another strike on a strike streak
I forgot about our combat
complimented his technique
forgot about his fingertips
20kms east
typing out coordinates
stroking other skies with strike streaks
while I’m walking by the pizza shop
coaching my impressions of the street
and the ground that’s
beneath me
is soft with the water that keeps it green
and the world caught
in waxy orbs
through a curtain of water the council pours
over a public park
in a launch plume’s arc
i thought if i loved it I could curb my part
see the man that
bowls beautifully
his violence is official I do mine for free
in the morning
when I hang up to dry
the sheets that I slept in during the night
when I prepare
the drink I like
and drink it with food in late morning light
when I’m in love
and when the love is left
when I bring in the bins when I host a guest
when I’m walking
out my door
and I see a bird I’ve never seen before
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