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by Corsicana

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    Physical copy of debut album "Haven"

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Solace 06:04
There’s a shimmer in the water (an interruption of the repose). A double of me is looking back at you. The wind is fleeting, and the frigid air tightens its hold on me. Our reflections are reassuring. Like the portraits on our wall, there’s permanence in your stature and solace in your gaze. It’s taken its toll on me. I can't break the line of sight between my reflection and I. The way you grip me, I feel as if I’m the one trapped underwater. When we stand to leave, the tide is rising. Lest we cross that bridge, the path is winding. The sun's tired rays are blinding. And you couldn't keep from smiling. When I breathe, my lungs fill with water. When I look up, a silvery ceiling traps me. When my sight fails me, I know I’m dreaming. When I finally wake, I’m screaming.
Manifold 01:57
Revelry 03:53
Smokestacks surround the city. Plumes of smoke billow upward. Bits of light poke through, ever present in our arc. Leave the idea of the dawn behind, along with our sleeping selves. We’ll lock all the doors behind us, and all our cheers will be drowned out. Even in the moment, I swore this wouldn’t end. I know I lied then, and I know I lied now. Even on the morning that autumn overtook us, spring would come again and reset the stagnance. We’ll self-immolate our well-being. All in the hopes of finding a place we can come back to. It’ll be so far removed from here. We’ve barely scratched the surface of all we mean to be. Now our cheers will drown out all our doubts and fears. My cash is all forfeit, you emptied your account. Let’s set back all the clocks and sleep another hour. I don’t want to live in a house with no roof, I don’t want to freeze in a room alone with envy.
Attrition 06:33
The snowfall has blanketed all around us. I can't see four feet in front of me, and even your silhouette is too far gone. I hope that if I retrace our footprints, I'll find myself indoors again. Still, despite refuge, it's the place we've been avoiding all along, and I can't let myself in without your keys anyway. I can’t help these walls being paper thin, and every time I heard you screaming for release, I’d scream too. The hallways are wide enough to make it deafening, a reconciliation of truth within reckoning. My bags are already out of that destitute home. I don't think I ever fully settled in. Still, I know I left something behind, and I can't let myself in without your keys. If I’m to lay myself down in the cold, would you still be the one to die alone? At least you'd die warm. When I die, who will mourn?
Patron 07:45
The lines you use? They feel so obtuse. Though your words are rehearsed, your stance seems uneasy. And despite all the takes, your tone stays the same. Your eyes scan the floor when I ask for anything more. So fuck the script, I know you’re better than it. I'll father the blame once you forfeit the game. You antagonize my doubts, and anthemize my fear. Don't step any closer, I can feel the heat from here. You've done "all you could." I pretend I understood. You’ll set the stage, clean out all the stains. Man, your lies course throughout your veins. Amidst feigned surprise lies your grand design. You’ll command the attention, and direct it all towards me. You’ll protagonize your flaws, and I’ll hold the applause. For better or for worse, I’ll cling to your knees. You've done "all you could." I pretend I understood. You’ll set the stage, clean out all the stains. Man, your lies course throughout your veins. “I’ve done all I could. I’ve defiled everywhere I stood. I deserve so much less. Pulled apart, thread by thread.”
Berlin 06:06
Absurd indeed, is my hollow grief. My failures sew a patchwork of lies. My dispositions blur with time. I feel as though my thoughts won’t align. Even still, I cope. Sirens fueled the flames. Steel melds with soil and soot. Buried, they won’t hear me beg. I’m apologizing, I’m not sure to who. Windows shut and all shops close. Send us all beneath our homes. Can’t you feel the beating heart? Frame the chaos in your mind. Even still, I hope.
Discomposure 06:54
She said “send me to your grave, tell all the ghosts it’s time to play”. All that was left, all that there was to save. It’s written upon your face, a paragon of wasted space. In your eyes I see hate, I see desire, I see the tales left behind by a great empire. All that was left, all that there was to save. There’s no one else left to blame, you yourself set these ruins aflame. Don’t look at me like a deer in the headlights, you know what you’ve done, and you’re all out of places to run. I was carved from your faith, a heap of clay placed upon your lathe. All your dissent, all that you ever meant. It’s written upon my grave, everything you meant to save. Don’t look at me like a deer in the headlights, you know what you’ve done, and you’re all out of places to run. That corner’s not getting any bigger, and the court’s patience is wearing thinner.
Petrichor 08:13
I remember when we were younger, the lights would flicker on here. The street would glow. I would turn and ask if it was too cold. Now, the cracks in the glass are longer than they’ve ever been, and we can’t see inside anymore. The harder we look, the more we see of ourselves, and the more I want to turn away. If we wait long enough, maybe I won’t have to. Maybe, even if for a second, we’ll be able to look inside that old house and see what’s left. Maybe there’ll be more than just dust and old books to kick around. Maybe there was something we missed. The handle on the front door’s rusted shut. In the yard, the grass is overgrown and colorless. You tell me you caught a glimpse of something in the window. I reassure you that it’s nothing, a reminder of the previous tenants. The back door swings open, and we feel compelled to enter, as if led by an escort. The chandelier’s on the ground, shattered. The floorboards are torn up, and we’re left to walk on broken glass and rusted nails. Up the stairs, rays of sunlight illuminate the dust in the air, and we can hear pattering on the windows, a thousand hands pleading to be let in. There’s wind, and it’s gasping. It’s screaming. We shut the doors around us to drown out all the sounds. There’s still an open one, though. I’m pressing my hands on my window and looking out. That single fucking light; it flickers on, and then dies out. All I can see now is the street reflecting back at me, raindrops trickling down the window. The patter is a rattle now, and the wind is writhing. I can’t stand it any longer, so I turn to ask if you’re ready to leave, but I can’t find you anywhere. Something tells me you’ve been absent for quite a while.
Tides 06:24
The trees sway, but I feel no ease. My breath dissolves in the breeze. Long before any semblance of sleep, I let my fears run deep. Now the tides won’t wash me clean, absolve me, or set me free. And if my past defines me now, why be kept around? The indentations melt away, any trace of us erased. Foreign places feel familiar, and strangers become confidants. If the tides won't wash me clean, Will I ever feel release? When I’m older, will I know all I was before? Mending all I’ve harmed is only just the start. Recognize my flaws. That’s all I really want.
Hearth 08:38
Surrounded and immobilized by tethers to the past, The future feels as certain as the timbre of your voice. The creases in the bedsheets felt like valleys between us, and the forethought in your words felt like the contempt poking through my own. We worked so hard to make that place our own, but I still woke with a shudder and disdain towards tomorrow. We felt so aimless in purpose, but so pointed in direction. You’ve done so much, it’s only fair you ask I leave my vitriol at the door. They won’t wait. They won’t stop to ask if you’ve caught up. Will I know? Will I feel any difference in our hopes and fears? They need to stop with the accusations, the demonstrations. We’re all moths to a flame, but metaphors mean fuck-all in the way of keeping sane. Enough of the hole-patching in this sinking ship. If we dream of safety, then maybe we’ll wake up safe. I’m not home. That I know, as I’m left standing on the precipice. All the words, All the thoughts, Don't let them keep you up.


released September 23, 2016

Ben Pisano - Electric/synth bass, acoustic guitars, electric/bowed guitars, organ, percussion, piano/keyboards, programming, sampling, synths, vocals

Engineered, recorded, produced, and mixed from 3/28/16-7/15/16 (elements of track 7 recorded from 9/13/14-11/9/14) by Ben Pisano in Denver, CO

Songs & lyrics written by Ben Pisano from 5/24/13-7/10/2016 in various locations

Mastered by Joe Lambert

Graphic design by Ben Pisano, with hand-drawn cover elements by Jordan Leone


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Corsicana Denver, Colorado

hi! ben here. me & my friends make indie rock/dream pop with some added bleep bloops <3

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