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by 200 lurkers

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Take Turns 03:27
take turns, chalk burns, it's light enough to show your highest low | take part, drop guard, it's bright enough to hide your lowest high that you can't control | it's not the bullet that kills you: it's the hole | drugged sighs, name lies, the routines of a cute and tender brute | coarse lips, small hips, you touch them with the glove of callous love that ties your tongue | it's not the singer that haunts you: it's the song | back turned, you learned each poem will in time slip your mind, each and every line | it's not the verse we remember: it's the rhyme | it hits you as you come: it is not love that unites us: it's the bomb | take turns, chalk burns, it's light enough to show your highest low that you trade for youth | it's not the lie that will break us...
Feetfirst 03:40
you cast your hook & then you wait | even though you know with your kind of fate | the catch is always smaller than the bait | the catch is always smaller than the bait | you're jumping off the sailing ship | so scared that it will spring a leak and drown | as you sink down you feel a mermaid's grip | she plucks a sad smile from your bluish lips | and your lung that's caught within the reef | is shimmering like a ruby coral leaf | first the impact, then the sound | so many dead we ran out of land | had to put them feet-first into the ground | we had to put them feet-first into the ground | you're jumping off the flying plane | for fear that it might come down in flames | as you rush down you're brushed by the wild mane | of the winged horse that you could never tame | and your heart that's broken from the fall | is sparkling like a spinning mirror ball
Lavender 03:13
sometimes i can’t believe how much i lie to myself in order to get by all the time | pretending i feel nothing, pretending i’m fine with the way things turned out | i kid myself i kid myself | i'm still in my own way | you were so far off the mark | gotta laugh about it | now look my veins are cut and you can read the humours as they bleed | do you know what it means? | (the lights are on but I didn't understand) (no, I won't go along) | so if you can, can you tell me, can you tell me, can you tell me | is it fatal?
QI 04:55
when birds say words it's not talking at all | when you kiss me you're not loving in the same way | you're Fake Bear | you're Dirty Mouse | you don't know your food | when snakes shed skin it's not fashion at all | when you touch me it's not passion in the same way.
walking out, standing foreign | the air turns blue and dies | the morning that would never brighten | the light loosens its ties | i'm your misplaced belisha beacon | i'm the one you didn't find | you are my memento mori | i'd hoped we'd have more time | maybe I know far too much | maybe I can read the signs | leave before the seas get rough | I'm too late this time | trammeled gears, the shutter stutters | the film is forced to freeze | melting scenes that coined the colors of your memories | i'm your misplaced super eight reel | i'm your available light | each frame crumbled and resembling the chroma-crisis of your sight | maybe i've seen too much, | maybe i can read the signs | leave before the storm picks up | it's too soon this time | i know there's no place for us | (there are few things time cannot heal, you're not one of them) |
Cages 05:01
the noise that comes from your trophy room | won't let you sleep at night: | each in its own cage handsome birds half your age | an overwhelming sight | each fallen feather you picked up | lined up by color and by form | to build the wings that you lack | which won't stick to your back | or even keep you warm || meanwhile your life branches out | like a tree stretching towards something | of which you don't know what it is || the noise that comes from your trophy room | will wake you this night, too | never mind what you've heard | it's the cage not the bird | that is singing to you || meanwhile your life branches out | like a tree stretching towards something | of which you only know that it is | not this not this not this
Sandy 04:02
we wake up under threat of the disaster | and I know it don't help now, but still I have to ask: | can we go back to the way things were before? | when losing everything was still a metaphor | I saw a hanging fire burning down the shore | will you come through for me? | candle flame is tugging at the dark | it wants to pull our separateness apart | we're swallowed whole in a pulse of yellow sulfur | we'll wait for morning to give us back our cover | in ?? silence i can sense the ocean rising | my eyes trained on a point on the horizon | will you come through for me?
madonna of the violets | is looking down at you | she holds the child, its smile pristine | but you fail to recognize the holy scene || your oriental wisdom | led you accidental ways | for centuries you carried souvenirs | late by more than two thousand years || you came to where the bones | of the other three are buried | bring french perfume and sacred food | and the travelogue of a king || you're the lost one of the magi | the fourth crown for this town | you traveled far, forgot a lot | even who it was you started out for | when i'm asleep you sprinkle spices on the sheet and cover | to chase away the memory | of every former lover || madonna of the violets | is watching from the wall | her weary smile is telling you | i'm not the one you were supposed | to travel to | "such a cold coming we had of it…" ||


released January 12, 2015

Artwork by Jennifer Vogtner


all rights reserved



200 lurkers Cologne, Germany

Two friends, two continents, a series of happy accidents. What once began as an exchange of letters morphed into a collaborative process of crafting songs from opposite sides of the Atlantic. The resulting catalog reflects the patina of many rounds of revision and accumulation. 200 Lurkers blends two distinct musical aesthetics into songs that feature glimmering moments and makeshift voices. ... more

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