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The Inanimate Sermon

by Mothers of Gut

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1.
Litost 05:06
Movement tears us all apart.
2.
He's sitting in a room full of men, and they're all silent with each other.
3.
Where have you been, where have you been? Waiting for me on the other side? You've been out there, sitting in the sand, waiting for someone to come.
4.
Red Flower 05:53
On this blood red sky, I rest my weary shoulders. Upon my father's sun, his arms stretched over me, folding over and over. A wind falls through my trees; dried tears from a falling sky. A water rushes through my knees; a wet cacophony for my sorrow, For I am the mountain. I am the mountain. Through this valley grows a flower red as fire, and through its vein grows an innocence undending. A woman's swimming through my creek, naked as the day she came, and all the creatures know her name, and we are in this communion together.
5.
Chavela 03:25
Non lyrical- Based on a poem written by Mai Doan. "She’s drinking tequila, small boney fingers wrapped tightly around her glass. In her voice are the tragedies of the desert, a cry from the sun burnt canyons of her chest. The sky blazes red, losing oxygen. She alone is the heat of the desert. 2000 miles from her window, the Santa Ana winds thrust wildly through my hair. Outside are the sirens I hum to; I do not speak, but my silence is man-made and vicious. The schizophrenic movement of the wind blows away the dust of her clay fingers that is streaked across the page; the color reminds me of her neck, of the mole that rests like a stone beneath her trachea. I wonder what she’s doing, if she’s pacing between the rocks, between the wild personalities of tumbleweed and stinging nettles. I wonder if she’s standing, eyes squinting, staring into the horizon, if I come to her in the shapes of the trees in the distance. Between cactus thorns and a love poem, she writes me of the Christians. Of their swimming pool baptisms, how their violence hunts in packs. She sends pamphlets from Jehovah, cut outs for eyeballs, vaginas for faces; I hear her laughter through their lips before it turns to a scream. She spits four-letter words at their god-fearing gospel then tells me she loves me. I want the thickness of her voice, the caramel of her accent. I want to capture the desert lizard tattooed around her hand. I wanted to suck los nopales from her tongue, get close to her. But all I have are my fingers on her letters, her two licks and the sealing of an envelope." -Mai Doan
6.
We've travelled from the sun, travelled from the dawn of time. We've come so very far, only to disappear. We're riding through the void, riding on the ocean's wave. We've come so very far, only to disappear.
7.
On blackened seas, she speaks to me. A parable of the frozen wasteland. I'm waiting for my lungs to fill with water in my sinking vessel.
8.
The Recess 03:40
9.
ooooOOOOOOOOOoooooooOOOOOOooooo
10.
I was once your child, head pressed to your womb, sinking into beach sand. THIS must be where we all go.

about

Written and recorded by Mothers of Gut in 2009.

credits

released April 1, 2010

Aaron Freeman- Vocals, guitars, synthesizers, basses, etc.
Adrian J. Laguna- Drums
Sergio Camarena- Bass
Ryan Beal- Guitar
Ramiro Zapata- Cello on "The Beach Blanket"

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about

Mothers of Gut Los Angeles, California

Mothers of Gut are a band residing in Los Angeles. They are currently supporting the release of their new album BUILDINGS.

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