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Monsoon Season

by Superdose Gangway

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We sat on the curb throwing rocks into the street. Our words were caught by the breeze. You asked if I was truly happy. I paused but for a moment, my silence answered for me. Maybe we should sit and talk for a while. I just want to see you smiling. I can't ignore it, I can't pretend. I do adore you so I'll make amends. I can't ignore it, I won't pretend. I need your love so I'll write it on the back of your hand, so you won't forget. You asked for me to speak my mind, I guess it's time to face reality. I said to you that you're nice but I'm fine. But, we all know what fine really means. Maybe we should just sit here for a while. I know I lack elation, however, I can't help but smile. Maybe I could feel better if I tried. I once received an accolade on the day that my dog died. I ran off and cried.
Attending classes for better diction. You blurred the line between fact and fiction. But we graduated and left the woods. Living in this state is heaps good. Quit your act as backseat bandit and come join me, leave your post abandoned. I think it’s time to begin: I’ll draw the lines if you shade it in. Hiding in this place where no bands go. High in the hills where it almost snows. I find myself again pitching projects to my friends. Hey, Raccoon, I’ve got a plan. Would you join me and start a band? I was thinking the same thing, you can count me in. I’ve got some people in mind who I think you might like. From teacher and student to preacher and truant. But look at us now on equal ground, newfound with walls we burnt down. I know we’ll get through it. I went to great lengths to befriend my heroes, nurse them back to full strength. And how can we paint with weighted brush? This thing could swallow us. Deep in our discussions of sound, I say to you that I’m proud. And I hope that we stay aligned until one of us dies.
I write you letters everyday despite how long your response takes. After thirteen-thousand thoughts I'm just glad that we still talk .You fill the gaps of what I lack. To be completed, both halves of the whole are needed. The line between friend and coworker, and brother are becoming blurred. I’m sorry that I kissed your sister I hope you understand that I just really missed her. I’ll block my ears if you pull the pin. I’ll draw the lines if you shade it in. I need something to distract me. My time spent away from home is what makes me happy. This is what I value most. Come and play, armadillo. We can watch the rain from my bedroom window. Inconsequential, but I play to win. I’ll draw the lines if you shade it in. For the sake of the seasons, in the wake of the monsoon. Let’s make something void of all reason. Make use of this warm afternoon. What’s next for this outlet of art. This list of 26 is just the start.
Kitten Kong 03:50
Curl up on the floor, because I’ve circled this room a thousand times before and the dust has been settled the same way now for months. These stripes on my tail, the bars of a prison cell. I chitter and I yowl. I am the cornsilk lion. I am an ocean of fire and iron. Don’t keep me confined. I swear I’m not afraid. I’m not insane. I’m not losing my mind. I wanna go outside. I still remember a distant engine, the smell of petrol and your cold paws. As I sat by the side of the road, I wished we’d never explored. I am the cornsilk lion. I am the king of pretending I’m fine. I will cherish the family that remains, and hope, for now, that it stays the same. Black cat, bad luck.
Quixote 03:31
Tilting at windmills, wilting. Kicking an anthill, killing. Slowly decomposing landfill. I'm on a plane evading sleep in neither the aisle or window seats. These thoughts lack words. Homesickness hurts but being bored is worse. I was totally nervous to go to Japan. My words never land standing upright. Despite everything I've seen, I wish I could believe. I'm sick of sleeping on airport floors, aimlessly wandering through airport stores. Everyone I see enjoys this more than me. But, I don't think I can perceive that this happening. Maybe I don't believe that this is more than it seems. Why don't I feel differently?
Tangled leads and broken strings, just excuses made for a lack of writings. Utensils used have gone missing. Pens and pencils, our only findings. They say "break a leg", but these days we're stuck breaking bread, Breaking Bad, getting baked in bed, avoiding our mistakes instead. Waste our time away procrastinating. Days in bed spent waiting for an open door because I've closed more than I ever have before. Going nowhere, showing no care for how I'll get there. And, so, I grew an apple tree in the middle of my living room. It's roots stuck in concrete, but its flowers will still bloom. An apple a day keep the demons at bay. These Winter months grew colder by the day. But, it's dying and it will be gone soon. I'm trying to avoid the monsoon. Time wasting, I'm failing. The roof of my head is caving in over my head I'm flailing my arms as said are waving. For the tide is so frustrating, preventing me from escaping and my back is aching and I'm drowning as I'm waiting for the chance a wave may bring me safe to shore. No remorse, hard work is its own reward but I expect full payment, of course. I take what I can afford, cause I get bored, I can't handle being ignored, it shows my floors, glass windows and wooden doors. Apple falls and plants the seed. By our feet sprouts the sapling. Loss of Autumn but the joy of Spring as the tree begins blossoming. I know that it rains before it snows, and I know that the sun is sure to show. And, so, I grew an apple tree in the middle of my living room. It consumes all of me but it fills this house with gloom. I'm dying and I will be gone soon.
I am a liar, I am a cheat. I am violent so don’t come near me. I stole your heart and all of its dreams under the guise of art and the hopes of peace. Some call me pious, others a miscreant. They may be biased but I don’t care what they think. Run away, I am a deviant. Save yourself from pain and mistreatment. I’m at your home throwing stones through your window. I follow you when you’re on your own. We are alone. As you run out back, I’ll shoot you in the leg. Consider it luck the bullet missed your head. Come back out front because that’s common sense. You’ll blame yourself, accept the consequence. A bruised lip and a battered cheek means you’ll hide at home for another week. Don’t go to work and let people see that you misbehaved in front of me. This is madness, it’s a habit you’ll find. I inhabit your mind, spreading poison in time. You need sadness I think you’ll find. You cant sustain euphoria all the time. I confess that I notice when you're not around, but I live my life under threat. I’m not upset despite that you beat me down just to keep me in check. You thrive off ideologies that frankly I cannot see. But I don’t know if you’re friend or foe. I know that I’m in your debt. You thrive off ideologies that frankly I do not believe. I am scared what might happen if I leave. And you wrote to me to ask me to leave. You would beg and plead. Bargaining would only bring unpleasant things. Arguing just strengthens me. You’ll never be free. I’ve been designed to deceive, but I wont let you dictate me. I serve a purpose, you think I’m worthless, ignore me if you think it will hurt less. Prevent me from ruin and I’ll keep you human. A reward for a service. So why am I nervous?
Fawning, burning, crawling, yearning, falling: a greenhorn learning. Bread and water, bricks and mortar. Quicksand. Martyr. I built you this home complete with Stockholm Syndrome. You're a word that I can't spell with a meaning I don't know. I'm Deborah Bradshaw walking house to house with handicrafts, in Idaho, speaking in monotone. It's so obvious, I can't believe that you don't see. All I've ever wanted is to exist inside your brain. Romance or nearest offer, just know my fucking name.
I’m lying awake in my race car bed. I used to dream of greatness, now I’m sleeping off the meds. I’m not a picture of success, I’m a goddamn mess. Maybe I could be your warning, a victim of excess. I’m a picture frame: utilitarian, I’m a hurricane: temporary. He’s no protagonist, you’re just a masochist. Your life is a b-grade screenplay.
In the car lacking conversation, you wrote our names in the condensation. Maybe we should sit and talk for a while. I just want to see you smiling. You're looking for something more. I've given you all I can afford. The key's in the ignition and you've locked the doors. I held you and we swayed to Where is My Mind in the kitchen of a party in mid-July. Later, I was surprised to find that my t-shirt had a wet shoulder from where you'd been crying. Avoiding my eyes to hide your pupils as they shrink, but battered eyelids are hard to blink. (I was your illness but you found a cure, I'll pretend that's exactly what I hoped for.) I realise, now, that I can't live without the side you've shown that no one knows. Now you've grown out of me, I hope I'm not a bad memory.


In 2016 Superdose Gangway completed a project called 'twenty-six songs in twenty-sixteen'. 'Monsoon Season' is comprised of the 10 best tracks from that project reworked, and remastered.


released January 3, 2017

Superdose Gangway is:
Max Tulysewski - vocals, tenor guitar
Liam Gare - vocals, guitar
Ned Heggart - bass
Craig Burns - drums

All music and lyrics by Max and Liam.

Monsoon Season was recorded and mixed in Max's bedroom, except:
Drums on tracks 1, 4, 6, 9 & 10 recorded at the EMU by Matt Lang.
Drums on tracks 2, 3 & 7 recorded at the EMU by Lachie Ambler.
Drums on track 5 recorded at Django Lehmann's house.


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