cries & whispers

by the Nabokov Project

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05:42
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07:37

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recorded by mw gargo @ Squalid Manor Appleton, WI
mastered by Justin Perkins @ Mystery Room Mastering

credits

released July 28, 2015

guitar, vocals, bass, beats by mw gargo

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all rights reserved

about

the Nabokov Project Appleton, Wisconsin

Formed in the shadows of a Midwestern University in the mid nineties, the Nabokov Project is the ongoing work of singer- songwriter MW Gargo. Previous incarnations have included the membership of Dave Pollock (spoken-word vocals), Ted Leslie (percussion), Thea Morton (cello, guitar, and keys), and MW Gargo (vocals, guitar, bass, violin, computer, and keys). ... more

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Track Name: Fragments
there are fragments of memory here
years left dead
nothing to hold it back now
face has fled

the seagulls wept
the lighthouse bells
the bleating of the sails
your here swept over the sand
blocking out the sun

ten years ago
on a gravel road
we were both so confused
and i saw you that night
in the back through the light

people come and people go
some you bury and some you don't
if there's a stone out there for you
there's a stone

there's a light in the ocean
there's a light where we can die
Track Name: Falling Down
Now let's go back, the day in may when we first met
When I first kissed you on the stairs
The days go by, the pain subsides, we cut it back
We both left something there

Now we are falling down again
We were both falling into it
We were both falling on your bed

Now let's go back, the august sun, a tire track
When both followed on a dare
Four years go by, still pain resides, we cut it back
We both left something there
Track Name: Glengarry Leads
It’s 3am,
a siren wallows by,
staring at paint chips
listening to the sounds
a city rotting on refuse
of a million darling people

and I’m left thinking
I’ll be blind forever

I wasn’t there the day
You forgot how to say your name
I heard it from a phone
The music’s over now
Dog has died in the backyard grass
the cancer’s taken home

Give me Glengary leads
Give me someone to sell
on the idea that these things
will turn out, when we’re turned out
because I don’t believe

Today I called people
all across the country
and asked them for money
they didn't have
sold them on the tragedy of hope
sold them on the tragedy of hope

there’s never a dial tone
you can’t reach a soul
Track Name: Little Hemingway / Younger Shoes
walking down the boulevard
watching all the lights go out

slipping through the cellar door
smelling all the rain set in

rain drips off the eaves
silence left us thunder down

leaves fall off the trees
sleep was in our hearts

when we were younger than now
everything was satisfying
when we were reckless and loud
breaking plates and prophesizing
when we were vulgar and proud
everything was everything

broken on the sea
salty spray and blood shot eyes

santiago dreams
empty bottle quiet breeze

falling to your knees
sleep was in your heart
Track Name: laura in the dark
Don’t forget to show all my mail to your friends
Don’t forget to blow out the light when it ends

She prays for the Dalai Lama
She prays for the Pope of the Romans
The blessings of Orleans’ Parish
She prays for us all

Don’t forget to carry a piece of my hair
Don’t forget to bury your dead in the air

She watches buildings falling
She looks for hope in the ashes
She prays for the dead-end Catholic
She prays for Allah
Track Name: Lost & Found
I own the lost & found
He owns the airport
I own the airwaves
and all the spaces
Inside my cardboard box,
there are pieces that don’t belong

I own the lost & found.
She owns the sellers of the parts
I have a cardboard box
She has the pieces

Between the buildings
You call those spaces
Dig up the concrete
Put in a building again
But if we don’t want it
They’ll build it up faster for sure
Because you call them spaces
And they call them places you don’t belong

I own the lost & found
He owns the sellers of the parts
I have a cardboard box
He has the pieces

I saw a girl today
her pretty face was real low
Behind her silence,
there was violence for sure
She’s got a space
some broken parts
She told me to go away
and put her hand against my sweater

I own the lost & found
He owns the sellers of the parts
I have a cardboard box
He has the pieces

I know a neighborhood
A man there was shot up good
Blood in their sidewalk
Blood on their windowpanes
He had a child
A blue-eyed boy
But someone was angry
Someone was sad enough to kill

I own the lost & found
She owns the sellers of the parts
I have a cardboard box
She has the pieces

Driving a dirt road
You see a haystack in the bend
Get out of the car seat
Run in the hay field
But you see their lover
And they think you love her to death
Get back in the car
And drive until forget that face

I own the lost & found
She owns the airport
He owns the milkweed
She owns the monarch butterfly
But I own the whole damn field and sky.
Track Name: the Gift
She hides in a closet
on shoebox lids
through musty suits

uncle works on a bottle
cigarettes, t.v. set

mom and dad scrape their plates
by the Christmas tree
they don’t see him
the bedroom door, closes in

and there’s a shotgun underneath his couch
“but he finds me…and he loves me to keep…”

“I’m feeling sick. Can we go back
to grandma’s yet?”

out on the porch
the house was loud; she told him so
walked into the yard
to get some air, against a tree

“little bitch,” he called.
“too conceited to stand by me
I’ll do you a favor, put you in your place.”
grounded, hands around her face

“I’m feeling sick. Can we leave
the party yet?”

Empty grows a hungry smile
staring down trapped by the gaze
a body; the object; a body; libido