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Hide and​/​or Seek

by Queen Cabbage

/
1.
If you wore those boots for walking, what are you still doing in bed Softly humming songs of longing that do you no good stuck in your head? Stuck in your head, you say, you live that way — it is your greatest shame! Well, you chose it, Ben. You chose this pain. What signs should I ignore? What drugs should I explore? What gates should I pretend I can’t open? If you’ve selected scenes for cutting, find the frames now on the floor Remember every cent it cost you and your crew — there could be more, But make damn sure you search intently, ‘cause the cameras can’t see Anything you don’t find first in me. What signs should I ignore? What drugs should I explore? What gates should I pretend I can’t open? Oh Lord… Oh, Ben… There are roads you’ll travel nightly There are some you may never see Tuck and roll; just try and stop me But I am truth, and I don’t care what you believe Oh, I am truth, and I don’t care what you believe If you bore me proudly since your childhood, you would now be free But luckily there is no deadline to get to know me Stuck in your head, you’ll find a shade of red — instead look to the trees If you choose a color, choose bright green What signs should I ignore? What drugs should I explore? What gates should I pretend I can’t open? Oh Lord… Oh, Ben… Oh, Ben… There are roads you’ll travel nightly There are some you may never see Tuck and roll; just try and stop me But I am truth, and I don’t care what you believe Oh, I am truth, and I don’t care what you believe There are songs you’ll sing without me Many more in the drawer you’ll leave. Look harder, and you’ll find words pouring from me I am truth, and I don’t care what notes you sing I am truth; I never cared what you believed
2.
Late September — conifer cover — You — lone red maple at its peak — Burn for two or maybe three more weeks Is there warmth? Your roots are dormant Cull all the old forgotten soil Wait for three or maybe four more months
3.
High-rise grime and licentious time in our bursting grey metropolis, Like droppings, collect; tourists genuflect to the heights to which they’re striving Excellent seats, eroding intrigue, effervescent concert-goers Not plush enough; not strong enough; not curated to their liking Sweep, sweep, sweep that pigeon dung From the belfry where real bells once hung Sweep, sweep sweep that dust away To reveal the most marvelous shapes A fresco hidden A fresco lost Brooklyn bars of reclaimed wood and not even a cushion for your stool Like fleas, collect, and rustle Bushwick’s pelt—like lice, keep it ripe and moving Buy your favorite meat from the artisanal fleet; get a nice big juicy mouthful Not dead enough? Not safe enough? Not white enough for your liking? Pity. Pity. Pity. Sing, sing, sing Freewheelin’ songs Figure anyone might stop for long? Sing, sing, sing  some top forty Lordy, then they’ll throw some real cash at me Mosaics hidden Mosaics lost More along those former lines Than any lines of mine you’ll find, Brake for show, not honesty, What else would get me rent money? A mural hidden A mural lost
4.
I Want It 02:04
I want it I got it I need it I hate it I'm off it
5.
Bottles fill the side table Roaches ‘round the bed Most went out, but some burn still Incense for the dead God knows where his head is now Tumbling through the void Charging us money to watch him flail and shout Then wondering why there’s so much noise Pity this went on so long Rotting in his shell Now that he’s as good as gone He can have his drugs in hell No stories left to sell Forgo the embalming; lay him down Pay no mind to where or even how Bash his head in so he stops those moaning sounds Just find a way to put him in the ground Just find a way to keep him in the ground
6.
Seek shelter Water Penitence Patience Bleed a frost-white Eremite Rivers rinse Patience Wander! Wander! Wander! It’s all the same; your eyes won’t change! Wonder! Wonder! Wonder! If it’s shame. Could it be shame? Spill it! Spill it! Spill it! Water clear, oh, water clear Charge it! Charge it! Charge it! Proton clouds, electron hounds Could it be the sound From gullies deep That makes us howl And fight for sleep? Coral earrings Steering Rivers rinse Patience
7.
My eyes are near closed; darling, it’s so late Come to your pillow; hold me the old way Hum me your head song; drift into new days Come to your pillow; darling, it’s so late I’m brushing my teeth, love. I’ll be just a moment Sooner than it seems, love, I’ll find you here dozing Hum you my head song; drift into new days Come to my pillow; my, my — it’s so late Darling, it’s so late
8.
Clementine 06:08
I opened a clementine Popped the button off the top Inhaled as the oil diffused through the air to my nostrils Slowly peeled my clementine In strips about the width of my thumb I pulled a delicate pull so as not to disturb the sections I separated the sections With care to maintain the integrity of each One of them snapped at the corner — whatever — I’ll eat it first Each of the nine remaining is intact That’s ok, right? I hid the broken one from them They didn’t see it snap or smash between my teeth They didn’t see it die; they won’t mind if I lift them each One by one To their demise They don’t have eyes They don’t have minds Though I can’t stop wondering if they might
9.
Fair (Well) 05:46
I wish you well I really do It may sound like I’m being sarcastic as hell, but it’s true I need to go I’ve stayed too long Thanks for the drugs, the laughs, and the fake ass songs Sleep well Live and breathe well Because nothing I have to say is of value to you I will not supplicate and weep like some vacuous tool Instead, I will pick up my things and leave the room Address what ails my soul, but not for you Not for you I wish you well I really do It sounds like hypocrisy, yes, ‘cause it is, but it’s true We are here It is now It’s all I can do to make only a loving sound Farewell Play and sing well Because nothing I have to say is of value to you I will not supplicate and weep like some vacuous tool Instead, I will hang up my socks and my sweaty costume Speak only where I am wanted and say only what’s true But not to you I sang in a children’s choir I stuck to the treble staff I whimpered and stomped and I got what I wanted But never did learn to give back I sang in a chamber choir It echoed and I felt safe I went home and sang to my favorite caged bird Giggled and drooled like a nutcase My African Grey sang back In English inflected like mine I went to the cupboard and never to bed Blacked out and passed out of line I don’t need a children’s choir To help me sing songs about fear I’ve felt it and caused it, and now I am tired I don’t really know why I’m still here I don’t really know why I’m still here I don’t really know why I’m still here Farewell Sleep well
10.
I promise I am of sound mind Though I don’t behave like it sometimes You said I am of sound heart That’s one of you now; one’s a start I may have dry and scaly hands From scrubbing them clean whenever I can I know I should build immunity But I like to burn the germs off of me Off of me… I don’t want to kill the microbes, but I do it Hopefully most slide safely down the spout I want my mind to stay in line and muscle through it But that’s easier written down than carried out I promise I have no fever Body runs hot this time of year Maybe it’s that strong immunity Not sure who I’m fooling… certainly not me No, not me… I don’t want to fry my brain, but I still do it When I wish to whisper, usually I’ll shout I want my mind to stay in line and muscle through it But that’s easier written down than carried out But that’s easier written down than carried out Make a list, kid. Handle business. Handle business. I may not want to face my flaws, but it’s time to do it Dig ‘em up, put ‘em in a row; never stop to pout I need my mind to stay in line and get me through it But that’s easier written down than carried out Always easier written down than carried out One by one, I gotta work these fuckers out
11.
March (Dark) 03:24
Stepping on stones Seems a little cold for my liking Dirt between toes Helps my sore soles to tread lightly Heat from the mantle Winter stole straight from the air Scarce hits my foot before Dew steals it back — only fair Only fair that the wind bites my skin Only fair that the clouds wear me thin Only fair that the dew traps the heat So the dirt can make sure we will eat Cabinets still full Seasonings, cookware, and dry goods Lace in the window Vegetables stored up like firewood Mushrooms from autumn Peas, greens, and herbs from the springtime Shocked through with cold air, or Left in the sun — only fair Only fair we freeze half of our stock Only fair it cooks up slightly off Only fair it tastes slightly of must Earth wears thin in the dark just like us March feels like 6 A.M. April like 8 - pillow on my face May like 9 if I’ve slept June the first cup or three of hot coffee Rest so July is a weekend So that August can fill you with heat So you’ll know that September brings mushrooms The dirt will make sure we can eat In March we pick peas and plant carrots for summer If always the excess we freeze The dirt will make sure we can eat
12.
Hide 17:45
"The Clouded Morning" The morning comes, and thickening clouds prevail, Hanging like curtains all the horizon round, Or overhead in heavy stillness sail; So still is day, it seems like night profound; Scarce by the city’s din the air is stirred, And dull and deadened comes its every sound; The cock’s shrill, piercing voice subdued is heard, By the thick folds of muffling vapors drowned. Dissolved in mists the hills and trees appear, Their outlines lost and blended with the sky; And well-known objects, that to all are near, No longer seem familiar to the eye, But with fantastic forms they mock the sight, As when we grope amid the gloom of night. Jones Very (1813-1880)
13.
Seek 22:18

credits

released June 7, 2019

Music - Ben Stein
Cabbage design - Mara Panzar

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Queen Cabbage New York, New York

Originating in late 2017 at SUNY Purchase, Queen Cabbage is a folky art rock band dedicated to synthesizing silliness, seriousness, life, death, the beautiful, and the grotesque into earnest, powerful, emotionally immediate music for eager feet to dance and stumble to, for thoughtful hearts to beat and break to, and—most importantly—for authority figures to disapprove of. Queens ~~ Welcome! ... more

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