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lyrics

The hands on the clock face float on by
Time without substance, meaning or purpose
Eyes wide open at the ungodly hours of the morn
With the street light through the blinds on her lips
No sound of cars, no drunks trudging by
The sky is clear and it hasn't rained in days
No messenger, no saviour, no discord, no failure
Brighton is never this stagnant.

Pre-trip nausea, she goes downstairs
Her roommate is rolling on the kitchen counter
Lemon haze bound in Asiatic cotton mallow
Quality stuff, he says while misgendering her before licking the cellophane
Though not with intent
No wonder the kitchen smells of citric piss
The city is immobile, lifeless and docile
Less bite than a kid with a broken jaw
She puts on her coat and stands on the deck
Eyes drawn to the grid of red lights looming over the ocean
Lights up a Sterling and despises the peppermint
Spoiling the taste of her 4am coffee.

Time dilation, this pocket of being
Timescale differs by an order of magnitude
Ensnaring the house that's half empty yet over capacity
Like five monkeys caged in a cell fit for two
Buried in a mountain of introspection
She's in the deep end of the search for existence
The lust for meaning and a lust for freedom
She's done it all before, walked the same walk and cried the same night
Trapped, a prisoner of her cycles, lost in Samsara
Endlessly repeating the same tired feelings
Endlessly repeating the same weary emotions
Endless, breathing
Endless.

Brighton fades into nothingness.
All end, floating and meaningless.
Absence of space, absence of being.
Tightly folded excuses to mean something when you can just sit back and exist.
Feel nothing and everything, arms free and drifting.
The lights speed past her head.
Vibrant pinks, neon blues, lime greens, iridescent yellows—that was the come up.
She sits back on the deck and lingers, she simply exists.
The disconnect from call + form.
Devoid of all place and purpose.
Liberation, isolation, there is no conquest for space.
Determination vanishes, urgency dissipates, an amoeba operating in a vacuum.
No fear of tomorrow and no resent for yesterday, today isn't a concept.
The deadlines cease to exist and thoughts become air.
Liminal spaces, absence of want and need, is this what peace feels like?
Nothing here makes sense, and that's alright.
It's not that deep still.
Because she couldn't be dealing with that, not tonight.

credits

from How do I turn the lights off in a dark room?, released January 1, 2022
Avalina - Classical guitar, acoustic guitar, sines, vocals
Quetzal - Bass clarinet
Cody - Mixing, mastering

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Avalina Manchester, UK

experiencing the deposit of faith. avalina, aka absolute notion, aka one limb of bestial vanguard sextet, fka meanwhile. guitarist, vocalist, songwriter, oscillator of bad frequencies.

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