I've gotten more than a few requests for access to the words on this record.  And, since 98f the signing is unintelligable, leaving the remaining 2o be sung in adolescent Frenglish, I give you the rough translation to my half of the record.

Stairs and Bed

Tell me how it ended.  Tell me how the line is only straight when you promise not to bend it.  I agree!  You said it takes it out of you.  I thought that's what it's supposed to do.  Leave the party in a taxi, unfamiliar with this part of town.  Feeling dizzy in the backseat.  We're almost home.  Never mind the fare we've paid, instead just find the stairs and find the bed.  Is it me that leaves you feeling old, disguised as possibility? With childlike eyes and restless soul, I'll never know what to believe.  Listen to my heartbeat.  I've an extra valve that pumps your blood and it's spilling on the concrete.  It seems time for me to finally learn about how blood so cold can boil out.  I need to hear the words that you've been blessed with something heaven-sent to succeed.  Would you agree that all your friends are at their best when in their moment of defeat?

The Fountainhead
I heard your heart from the balcony.  It beat out of time from champagne.  I took the flowers from your dressing-room and erased an admirer's name.  No, you shouldn't feel ashamed.  Love is only natural, but obsession can stem from the fountainhead.  Why are we left inside-out instead?  We are powerless to resist our feelings that don't exist.  I saw your soul from the mezzanine.  You sang for an hour or more.  Soaked in ethereal empathy, you'll wake when I kick down your door.  We are powerless to resist our feelings we both detest.  Are feelings as real as this? 

Floor of the Ocean
Sink to the floor of the ocean.  Anchoring ships will surround and wait to be christened under your wonderous fortune.  Leave me the way that you find me.  You're only here to remind me of something immortal, carving your name in the coral.  A tired collision; all along you've hated the thought of it.  Silent admission might be wrong, but there's no harm in trying it.  Learn to control your belongings.  Learn to ignore what your body is trying to tell you: your soul has a low market value.  I wouldn't know what to say.  I'll wait for the words to come to me.  I wouldn't know resignation if it collapsed at my feet.

Backward eyes
A selfish request to act so well-behaved! Wound up like a pianola, reeled too slowly.  Let me digress from what I can't rephrase.  I'll believe a work of fiction through repetition, believing I'm removed.  Hindsight hits the mark with backward eyes.  Everything that goes unsaid is stumbling ahead with a stab in the dark with backward eyes.  Everything feels wrong to the touch when the past can't repeat itself fast enough.  I built the fence on which we hesitate.  I don't have the disposition to keep my distance, with nothing left to prove.  Every desire to know left me years ago, but we're not through.

You Knew Me Well (not on record, but I won't be picky)
You knew me well, tangling words to jangle my nerves.  Every time that I try to be something outside of me, you come along in the shape of anxiety.  You knew me well and you know how I get so very upset.  I'm scared of one lousy 'hurray!' for a lifetime of labor.  Sometimes life gives you just what you've waited for.  Kiss me again; take the edge off boredom.  Politely decline and declare for decorum, "It's getting late, and I have had enough.  We can talk again in the morning."  You knew me well (or so you thought..aparently not).  I sat and I watched you all day, dropping coins in a payphone.  Now you know I don't sound like the dialtone.  Please take me home if I've been misleading.  What is the truth when it's not worth believing? 

Slipped disk
It has been hard, but I have kept my falling feet from the ceiling beneath me.  Someone already said it best and I secede to the signs that steer me.  I am a slipped-disk dinner guest.  I overstay my worn-out welcome.  Some people always say it best. Can you relate to the eloquence that fills them?  I've memorized this place.  Most likely, it's the last I'll know of you.  I'll stay and live myself to death and wonder what I'm going to do now that you've left.

Umbilical Cord
Split rails marked the day that we had learned to rescue-flot through catastophe.  Wind-pale patron saints express concern that mountain cats are full with theives.  A full-scale test of strength made it known that everybody here believes that visionless ambition will make a feral tear evaporate and hope will spring eternal.  In the moment before you were born, my eyes were closed.  I couldn't miss when they tied your umbilical cord and left your dewclaws unclipped.

Am I missing anything?  I think I am.  Who knows.  Maybe I'll add more later.  So, this is a call to Dustin to do his part and cough up his lyrics.

buy a record... ride a cowboy!  if you're into what we do, you should probably have your very own copy of "visage cage".  send us an email, & $10, we'll send you a cd.  deal?  that's less than $1 per song.  can anyone else cut you a better deal?  i didn't think so!  love ya.