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I Used to Wear a Face (feat. Blake Butler)

from Mondo Decay by Nun Gun

/

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  • Mondo Decay Book, Tape and Digital Download (Edition of 500)
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    pages 144
    size: 20x 29,7 cm
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    Book of photographs by Brad Feuerhelm with accompanying texts by Ryan Mahan, Michael Salu, and Travis of ONO.

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lyrics

Who now no longer had the gift
Where always before in this condition
I had at least a face to wear
Where my face had once been,
now there was many of them
Enumerable really
Like sand lining the bottom of the sea
In total darkness
Aware only of itself and yet alive
Eyes for miles and minds behind them
Each one mined, each fucked
A hole, a geode
Stuffed with the brine of no further future, no dream
Anything else that I imagined happened as if it actually happened
And then I was just here again with one new head
Seven of each, of all new centuries inside it, fully extinguished
No more real than my own ass
Which right now was somewhere far beneath me
Getting drilled with human weapons, the nodes of our history
Knives, guns, ropes, saws, canons, teeth, fire
Devoid of fear
Each intent behind which as much my own as any others
Tied together, buzzing
Incubating, wrapped
I survived the next 1000 wars alone
The battle ground was my deleted body
The munitions were the lives inside each day I could no longer
Crushed and boned
The soldiers were any semblance of emotions I had lived through
The blood that spilled was not blood or even flame
But sound, hilarious infectious ravenous music
Older than the edge of any planet
Each note, uttered so loud it had already ended before it was
Less time having passed than there had been before it
Held contextless
Every inch of every night
The frame around what I was
Not now tighter and tighter
Smaller and smaller
Its darkness thicker than my blood
And at the same time more alive than anything I had ever witnessed
Flowing through me
Growing

credits

from Mondo Decay, released February 19, 2021

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Algiers Atlanta, Georgia

Algiers is a band of musicians born in Atlanta, Georgia, the rotten hub of the Ol’ American South, where W.E.B. Dubois once saw a riot goin’ on, and where the hell and highwater swirls ‘round to the knees.

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