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Half Poison, Half Pure

by Matt Jones

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1.
Tribes and clans and overall plans collide They have no names They have no split decision fame. I saw the ending. Boulders, rocks, on suicide watch you'll stand To claim a prize You'll win back all their fluttering eyes. I saw the ending. Whats it say? Whats it mean? I don't know. You tell me.
2.
Circumstances permit our words To carry weight, to go unheard Blood and bone and bullshit have pull For these you starve But I'm so full And all this banging 'round the grade school grounds Has left you stunted, stoned, unsound. But hey- at least you have Your social salve Your'e awfully dirty now And blissfully dependent. The whole town turned out To see you cry Your childhood is gone And now you wish you could extend it Unhappy babe. I've been spending time Mangling mouths, and murdering rhymes Of yours and mine. But hope resembles guilt And thats how I'm built A bigger man on bigger stilts And hey- it's your choice to play With this gaming gal Too big on stunts, not much to say. Whats the hurry now? Your ego is dead. That woman fanged it out And put it in her pocket. She tells you when to sob And when to whine. It's easier to row this boat instead of rock it. Unhappy babe. We wrapped you up and sent you home. And I won't come back till I'm grown. And when I do then you'll be dead. I'll kill your heart and then your head.
3.
Confederating again With shaggy, long toothed men. You close your eyes and you smile Swallowing bile, Trading these fixes for friends It's never hurt you before Studying this history of whores But every once in a while, Your'e reduced to wildly Scratching open old sores. And this year is so hard. Full of forbidden sheets, and forgotten streets This time. And how the tears came down Not in quick defense, bun uncommon sense This time. Acting is easy for me. No responsibility The act of lying is veiled No track, no trail Truth always comes with a fee So keep your scenes to yourself Your flawless costumes and wealth So interesting in act one, it tied my tongue Provoking toasts to your health And oh this is the show We've been rehearsing for Which of the hopeful hordes is next in line And how they worked so hard For these skittish spotlights Cliched and contrite end lines But you wanted to see What you thought you should be And when the hammer came down You were proud and passed around Shaving off days In a half-minded haze Let me in, let me in I want to play the games We used to play when you were mine. But theres never time.
4.
Hardened hands, shaping shameless songs About your mangy friends And all their long, white tongues They die like sinking ships Feathers clipped in flight, and you were right. Faces smile up from pillow packed With all their quick regret, and even quicker back- Stories of how you gutted ghosts Sold yourself content, and consigned. Theres something wrong in my mind. Confessions confirmed, now confined. Coming to terms with lack of wit. And mastering all the jolly bits. When no one really gives and shit And now your'e fucking with your life. The color was scraped out long ago But you don't believe in karma so You strap yourself to futures while You sabotage your shine. I forget why skin burns me out With all its endless welts imposed by Endless doubts. Your spine is curved by waiting rooms, Sarcasm, doom, deep drought And loosened ties Theres something wrong in my mind. Half poison, half pure But not quite.
5.
Nightscores 03:56
Last names don't serve any purpose When your'e just out to service Your own damn nightscores Like a currency amputated of value And killed off early. Waiting for old tunes to spin their lust Don't make a fuss. Throwing up in the predawn, Your poetics have long gone the way of Dozing and dreamless on Main Street Your validation in bedsheets And killed off early Holding a blank hand in a raided nest On an empty chest. Days run out from under rugs Like spent mortar rounds, and ticket stubs. Once remorseful, now unsteady Revelations hyped and heady You went riding, I went clawing A future bright with endless brawling And all at once, the day came dawning I never expected to pack up and hide for so long Winter has got me expecting to pack up and hide for so long.
6.
Hammer Falls 04:39
It'll be years before I'm back. With this ragged conscience, turned black. Towing eyes filled with what no throat can sing. A fitful foray into lack. I didn't fight it because I was used up As a stepping stone and as a muse. And what the heart receives Is what makes it bleed I held this fact to my chest and prepared to lose. Now her heart came fuming to the silent stage. Before the roaring drowned out the song I played. She gave a cool sudden smile to the strung out sage That was me An old, old man. Full of love, full of the best that I can. Now the aftermath has been short of nice. Reviewing actions, plans now sterilized. Resembling memories that began to torture me. Once the hammer fell and cracked through the thin ice. And now what once was painful Has now turned sweet Because at least I know the sound of my heart From the trampling feet That loom so large and faithless over hopes and dreams Well trample on over this old, old man Full of love, full of the best that I can.
7.
8.

about

The long awaited follow up to The Black Path. There is a band this time. There is stress this time. This is very different than the last one, and that is why we love it. It's a record about being stuck in the middle: dissatisfied with what lies behind you, and unsure of what lies ahead. You are half poison, half pure, with the possibility of becoming all of one, or all of the other.

Matt Jones & The Reconstruction is:
Serge Van der Voo
Chad Pratt
Colette Alexander
Misty Lyn Bergeron
Greg Mcintosh
Matt Jones

credits

released March 1, 2012

All songs by Matt Jones. All songs performed by Matt Jones & The Reconstruction.

Engineered and mixed by the delightful Andrew Hernandez, except for "Hammer Falls"- recorded at Backseat Productions by Jim Roll, and Andrew Hernandez at Soma Studios, and mixed at Soma Studios.

Mastered by Charlie Martinez in NYC.

Album art by the wonderful and patient Emma B. Trithart.

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Matt Jones Ypsilanti, Michigan

Well. The bio keeps changing, really. What is permanent is this: MJ was raised by a combination of circus music and doo-wop, with a healthy dose of ragtime thrown in. His music has been known to suffer from colitis. The Reconstruction is his own assemblage, and sometimes, disassemblage. The core: Colette Alexander: cello, and Misty Lyn: vox. ... more

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