Say it once
Once for safeties keeping
Give it up
Stop your eyes from weeping
It’s not enough
To say you just stopped caring
I called your bluff
And burnt my last offering
I gave my only soul
Peeled back my skin so slow
Am I sounding sincere?
If you want to leave, go
Hell, there’s nobody here
If you want to leave, go
All the same
Heaven need’s no choir
But beauty came
Built herself a martyr
It’s such a shame
Forgot to where my armor
And stayed up late
To watch the world grow darker
Written by Marcus Dean Terry (Lapel)
Song version found at https://soundcloud.com/lapel/soren
Check it out, children.
Sylvan Esso’s record has been really inspiring over the last few months. They released the stems for Dreamy Bruises, and I couldn’t help but try my hand at reworking the track. It’s quite different from the original, but I hope you like it. [The band did retweet it, so I suppose they must have enjoyed it]
Just found out @sylvanesso retweeted my remix of their song. That makes me very happy. #sylvanesso #indie #music #electronic #lapel
@sucremusic for real though. Angelic.
Some kids just know what they want to be. #art
I saw a meteor burn up in the sky
Bending the dark for a half second
As if it came to announce your passing
Or to remind the rest of us that
Life slips away so suddenly
And we forget to grab hold of it
I hope the myths are true
That God removes the candles above us
Untying the strings they dangle from
For the departed soul
That needs a lantern for the journey
For the walk into forever
So, I made this ridiculous picture for fun. Lapel record almost finished, and I can’t wait for you guys to hear. #lapel #music #atlindie
from a collection I’ve been writing
Oh mother Sara
I do know that love will bring
That danger you speak of
Now that you are left trembling
From letting it dig too deep into your soul
I have witnessed your terror
Your cursing of the jealous man
You once shared young pleasures with
And what’s more
The passion that brought me here
But I must ask, dear mother
How long shall I steep in the arms of another
Before we lose pieces of ourselves?
How many times can our lips touch
Before we should fear drowning?
What ever it is they’re doing, it’s working. #princessrosie #charlietheferocious #puppies #dogs
Since my graduation from Kennesaw State this past May, I’ve been working on an album for Lapel tentatively titled Out of the Bottle. As the completion of this record is drawing near, I thought I’d write a quick summary on what to expect from this project.
About year ago, I was starting the last year of my undergraduate degree. I spent the whole of fall trying to find my voice as a producer (which I’ve been doing for years), and I awoke many of those days with a tight jaw from the anxiety I was sleeping on. I experimented desperately with sub-genres of electronic music, released tracks like “Alone At Night” and “Every Devil”, and never seemed to make a song that I could truly be proud of. I fought with myself, questioned the validity and value of each song that I wrote and recorded, and some days, the doubts I had about my artistry made me consider quitting altogether.
Now here we are a year later, and I’ve stopped questioning the value of the music I create. The truth is, it isn’t up to me. The individual listener has to decide whether or not my music holds value. In my opinion, Out of the Bottle will end up being the best music I’ve produced and some of the best songs I’ve written, and I hope I’ll still be proud of it for years after it’s released. I probably won’t, but it’s a goal of mine to be a fan of my own art for as long as I can.
The artist needs to believe in his work. Let the audience decide if it’s worth anything.
Marcus Dean Terry
So It Is All
I believe with all my heart
That our births into this universe
And that each sharp cry falling first
From our infant tongue and diaphragm
Shakes the dirt and rock beneath
And we are justified to be until we are no longer
When the crying dies down
The wanting begins in its place
And that hunger is necessity
Because it is at all
So we grow as it grows
We twist with its twisting
So life is absurd and good
And its many hosts and visitors
Growing, changing, bending
Scrambling to find their roots
Or to destroy them
All absurd in our short existence
And we guests know with the wanting
With the growing and changing
Comes the death of all we’ve collected
The final dance of the aging spirit
Taking its last bow to settle the accounts
Returning the borrowed dirt and rock from below
So it is all good and absurd
That we are no longer wanting
When there is no place for us to want
And it is lovely and well that
We can no longer bend or stretch or change
When we are no longer
Written by Marcus Dean Terry (Click Here for More)
A poem from a collection I’m writing.
Staying healthy, friends.
Chattooga Belle Farms. Might come back tomorrow if there’s not a wedding.