clothes for cold days

by Oliver Karuna

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about

seven tracks in seven days, one continued story. The subject matter or inspiration behind each track is briefly explained in their respective information section.

Note, the character of Patricia Wilson which is referenced throughout the project (sometimes subtly) was based on various people who inspired this project.

credits

released November 23, 2016

oliver karuna: vocals, lyrics, production, instrumental, sampling
michael john: set design for track one, assistant vocals for track one

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all rights reserved

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Aurela Recordings Sydney, Australia

aurela recordings is a small group of people that use "noise" as a creative outlet. primarily, we make sounds for ourselves to reflect upon and question.

as of 14/08/17, aurela recordings has been shut down.

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Track Name: patricia wilson
Patricia Wilson

Clothes for cold days,
Patricia Wilson,
Age twenty eight,
Weight,
Couple cakes away from her co workers pass grade,
Arbitrarily set by feather taste,
Centrefold embraced,
Quill signed chain designed to denigrate every case containing differently modelled shapes,
May every plate stray from the rations,
May every action be unafraid,
May understanding take the place of those ashamed

Behind every gram is a story,
Behind every man is a worry,
Behind jolly is untold melancholy,
Let qualms meet open arms,
Disarm the tongue that guides one from self harm to the sun

Patricia,
Age twenty eight,
Weight on the shoulders of those that had her hung on display,
For the snake that stayed to watch her decay,
Before the apple Adam once ate,
On the tree of franchised mistakes

-Oliver Karuna (c)
Track Name: trading wishes for days with purpose under a facade
trading wishes for days with purpose under my facade

Melancholy for morning,
Mediocre for afternoon,
Hidden gin bars with mates for dinner,
High in a car with mate smoking indica,
It's a good night, that's a bad lie,
It's a great night, classed denied right,
Feel light, feel pain leave,
Peace pipes steal shames leaf,
Nothing shameful about concern,
Every body suffers, every bone breaks,
Every unconcerned person needs hands and new eyes,
Everyone is beautiful,
Under every scar is an orphan,
It wants security more than questions,
Under every blemish is a widow,
It wants purpose more than judgement,
Under every kilogram is an assumption,
It wants understanding more than rejection,
Every remark repairs a speakers wall,
Insults get recalled if subjects become deaf, or if researchers become bored of bold,
I'm feeling kind of old, I’m feeling kind of tired,
Kind of wrong, kind of kind,
Kind of young, kind of newly grown,
Definitely overwhelmed, with nothing but uncertainty at the helm,
Drinking myself to death in hell,
Wondering if I can kill myself,
Before I run out of wishes for the wishing well

I can't tell if these hands are mine or part of a clock,
Every night it's the same,
We both tick tock while the world nods off,
Arms wrapped around a window pane wrapped around lidocaine,
I'm the kid you'd love to hate,
The same one hate learned to love,
Two waves, too dazed, two takes, Tuesday,
Today, a man manacled his shackle,
House of issues, wall of tissues,
Watch your friends commit to suicide while you commit to a career careening off,
Chasing sleeping meaning,
Uncertain, pain, melancholy, closed curtains

-Oliver Karuna (c)
Track Name: rocket ships and coffee cups
rocket ships and coffee cups

Curtain burning by the thespian cursing,
Stomach churning, she's hurting, playing pretty person, this is disconcerting,
This isn't working,
Merchant of first impressions,
Bought by rocket ships with sanguine confessions,
Acting on attraction,
Asking for connection,
Passing passion past initial reactions,
Timid, conflicted, stupor ridden,
She needs a sip before a dip,
He wants to kiss her lips,
He has her on his to do list,
She sees him for who he is,
Through his Freudian slip,
Panoramic indifference lacking sapience visiting willing recipients for a sense of salience,
Living off of new millennium solatium and attention given,
All talk, no intention to listen,
Days missing,
married to persistence,
tally hidden for fellow rocket ships,
Help him, god unwilling,
Little league love with adult gloves,
In a world where push comes to shove,
Babies are born before sagacity,
Abandoned with alacrity a day before percipience,
Mistakes condensed into legalise abortion,
practice abstinence, avoid penance,
Invite smiles with caution,
Don't panic before the sentence,
Second thoughts and kangaroo courts will always find you guilty,
Truth is contrary,
Act prudently, refuse gullibility,
It's not your fault friend,
Listen,
Justice isn't always just,
Fault hunts with the exploitative drunk,
But witness,
Today the drunk is the hunters lunch,
The gatherers grunt in disgust,
Hands off the coffee cups

Tasting trust with half full coffee cups before lunch,
Pasting desiccant quips scarce of luck before melting seas and feet on the run,
Flee, one, two three,
Rocket ships see at the Karman line courtesy of burnt blinds,
Help the coffee cups that inspired this rhyme,
Patricia Wilson, I'm on your side

Little baby extra-terrestrial,
Abandonment ephemeral,
Brittle daily special,
Containment vessel wangled free of devil shackles,
By a petal of an unsettled kettle,
formerly spelling hell with a tongue tied to female manacles,
Atop a metal machine with broken pedals,
Adopted to two chuckles,
Baby settled, response orchestral,
Coffee cup joy decibel unbearable level,
Patricia never found it this pleasurable or enjoyable,
They'll raise her good,
At least they should,
The coffers sorrow swallows’ foibles,
As time moonwalks into a monocled grotto,
Avoiding candor bottled,
For death bed confessionals,
Will she ever know?
Will there be a spectacle following a life as a rosy eyed intellectual,
Plato perceptual,
Subterranean, non-consensual,
Knowledge's cost is transitionally difficult

-oliver karuna (c)
Track Name: rubbish in the clearing
rubbish in the clearing

There's rubbish in the clearing,
It's one evening past another season,
I'm standing near the clouds awaiting the seasoning,
My mouth is open, my ego broken,
If I was to drown it be here and not the ocean,
If I wasn't down I'd bring an umbrella and a bag of stolen stones,
Skip them across the apex of a crescent moon till it finds a home,
If I wasn't down, I'd still be tickling a frown,


It's one evening past another season,
I'm standing on the grave of the clouds,
My mouth is dry and the bees are out,
If I was to smile it be here and not among the crowd,
If I was to have a child I'd steer them to the visiting houhere,
Skip with stung once fear till it no longer nears,
If I was still afraid, I'd just have another beer,


It's one evening past another season,
I'm standing on a building site proposing a story twenty-three levels high,
My mouth is closed, eyes empathising with bees on death row,
If I was to cry it be here and not at a funeral,
If I was your friend, I'd do more than just letting you know via a post credit roll show,
Skip the step and appreciate the time spent on moments we kept,
If I was still sad, I'd just be thankful that you swam into my net


It's one evening past another season,
I'm standing on the first floor grave of bees and better days,
My mouth is agape, my body an apologetic rentier state,
If I was to behave it be here and not at your grave,
If I was brave, I'd be filling in my ways of escape with a smiley face,
Skip the heathen’s coffee and ingratiate myself with the deities of sobriety,
If I wasn't a liability, I'd still consider it to be a possibility

Oliver Karuna (c)
Track Name: wrapping winter up in a turtleneck
wrapping winter up in a turtleneck

Let's lighten the mood and kill the metaphors

I'm not a rapper,
I suggest you have another look at the wrapper,
It says rap free,
I swear I agree,
That only I find I funny,
Another log for the diary,
Anne Frank liability,
And frankly I'm fucking going crazy,
Trying to run from you and hide from me


I'm just an average introvert,
Trying to find a place that doesn't hurt,
I'm just an average introvert


I'm not good at, how to relax,
I've got a few friends that,
Make up the beat in my chest,
Some I've never met,
Closest I've been with them,
Is a comment on the internet,
After a shot or two,
I feel like I can disconnect,
Yet I still struggle to,
Talk, stuck tongue,
Walk, chin up,
I like bitter melon,
But I'm not a bitter person,
I'm just an awkward incursion,
A disturbance to the uncertain sermons of,
How to live your life,
I'm easy going most nights,
Enticed by hardcover invites,
Reading words, I can't write,
Without two tries under moonlight,
While a flashlight scrolls by,
Cause I can't see right,
Wear glasses, hang out with addicts, act passive while my body collapses into panics madness,
Anxiety, close friends sometimes feel foreign,
I enjoy walking, neo noir films, feeling unimportant, anonymity and eating,
I appreciate everything for what it is and not what it's worth,
We're all hurting, thinking thinking isn't purpose,
I try to help or refer people to people who can,
If one man with two twenty first century hands can reach a thousand clans,
Least I can do is lend my back



I'm just an average introvert,
Trying to find a place that doesn't hurt,
I'm just an average introvert


I wrote this as clothes for cold days,
Compassion for those who can relate to cases of doldrums,
Started late or started young,
Celebrating a lifetime unchanged,
Chained to drying paint,
Playing days passing away,
Understanding for those forcibly changed,
I wrote this project as a love letter to turtlenecks,
Keep the cold warm,
And the warm uncomfortable,
I'll be sitting under Newton's tree by dawn doing nothing memorable,
Cause I'm just an average introvert who knows words are just words

-Oliver Karuna (c)