by 1nce

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an ep made by 1nce for
1nce acoustic at 10x10 Variety Show Santa Clarita, Ca
July 6, 2017

{missing track: palm trees a giant's flower Mary watch over this body}


released July 10, 2017

punk art faerymtl sad bedroom artgoth futurepunk garagegrime babywitch moonmagic beachgoth darkpop dreamscream bedroom dream magic wolf pop faerie lofifantasy wizardry independant sci vi di spacenymph hiphop Los Angeles



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1nce Los Angeles, California

suis tombé ,
ai ri,

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Track Name: wingbeats
maybe it was a line of trees but baby
i think it was a parking lot you had
blood in your eyes and a quake in your lip i told you
i traveled to you through a memory and we won’t be lasting through the scenery
living halloween trapeze swinger
if ever you’re feelin alone buy a ticket n come on home
vocaloids on my weary head maybe this time when i call for you you won’t be dead
i’m in your corner Victorian
voices so loud from the underground
all my songs are love songs every days a heartbreak
babywitch your magic gonna make the earth shake
babywitch your magic ya gonna make the earth shake

grab your soulaxe you are never alone
grab your soulaxe you are never alone
grab your soulaxe you are never alone
grab your soulaxe you are never alone
Track Name: via princessa
Send me a postcard or a letter from a passenger pigeon.
Reattach the broken limbs that hang limp loose around at waist.
I work for a business, rough and unforgiving,
You work for nothing
Yet around we are all the same
A face a monkey a piano, a hot dog, a word
I want to see words where there are none,
The blank spaces I want filled.
I found a whistle that was buried in sand
It was silver and had a red cord
I brushed off the remains of changing human history
And breathed in its direction
It welcomed me with ease, comforted me, and bought me lunch
It was nothing but a lil whistle

You need some thing, something strong, vast, infinite, changing, unrelentless, boring, needy, conspicuous, changing, chancing, sweet,
I watch as your body aches, turns, and sweetens like melted sugar
It crackles and sways,
The spotlight dims and focuses on your arm
Writing is an art too, right?
We are artists, we are conmen

Play me a sad tune, one we both know
One that causes me infinite grief
I want to cry
I want to feel the aching sorrow of my youth disappear underneath the creasing bags of my eyes and I want to feel you there
In my presence
Looking straight into my eyes
Play me a sad tune, one we both know
So that maybe I can remember, or better yet, maybe I can forget
Throw away the trash bag in the corner
It has been sitting there for days
Leaking, smelling, rotting, aching, suffering
Shoot me with a dart gun, nothing too big just enough to feel the pain
To leave me a scar, one I will remember
On the palm of my hand, I will look
And think of you.
Give me that, make me that, feel me that, render me that,
And then I will love you

The subtle consciousness of the helpless
Its up to the background beat to deliver the message
Find relief, find common courtesy, find common ground,
Find anything.
There is the same song.

We are all one, connecting, rolling around like balls of dust or stickey tape.
We are all one, connecting, rolling around like balls of dust or stickey tape.

Be my dream catcher I dare you.
Tell, give to me plain.
Show me your words, your belly button, and your pockets,
And I will show you mine.
I would give to you the world, its bubbling and fuming angst, and you would give it right back to me
You starve yourself to stand nude for an audience
Yet all they see are lines

Lines gathering speed creating arcs, then a circle, then a shoulder.
They do not see you, your body, your eyes tearing up at each corner,
For all they see are lines, true and sweet nothing lines