Cementing EP

by Trapdoorsman

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three little songs recorded by myself in my apartment with one microphone and every instrument i had available.


released February 14, 2016

i play everything
i record everything
i mix everything

not saying i do it well, just that i do it




Trapdoorsman Washington, D.C.

one-man unending slow-motion car crash

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Track Name: Shaking Vest
Dear Taylor,

I can't tell my friends apart.
I can't tell if they're my friends,
or if they're just too polite.

These failures I create don't count as art.
They're a means, but not an end,
and I'm too ashamed to write
my sins.

It's way too late to count my sins,
but here:

I vanished, both from you and from the South.
The years afterward, they flew,
and without a word from me.

One letter (sounds so easy, said out loud)
would have helped to stitch the wound
that won't close until I see
the gates,

or clay, or nothingness,
that you're behind,
below, within.
Track Name: Nailbiter
You pack the kids away to college
and wave them a grinning goodbye
down the driveway.

The house falls into a sudden quiet
that presses down hard on your eyes.

Was it worth it?
The thought sends a chill down the back of your neck.

In all your dreams, your teeth are rotting,
and saltwater fills up the room.
You wake, sweating.

Your bed is frigid and expensive,
and most nights, it feels like a tomb.

Was it worth it?
The thought sends a chill down the back of your neck.

Armed with a frantic desperation,
you move to the country to clear
your poor head out.

You’re spending money like it’s nothing;
the well will run dry in a year.

Was it worth it?
The thought sends a chill down the back of your neck.

You get a fresh start, and you set about
making the same mistakes.

You get a fresh start, and you set about
making the same mistakes again.
Track Name: Good Bold Fair
Distractions wear thin;
the old thoughts settle in,
lying hot on my skin
as a brand.

Always, in my mind,
you are ten, I am nine,
and we're watching the sky
in your grandfather's field for bluebirds.
It really is home of the blues there.

I heard secondhand
that you'd up and abandoned
your shell to the sand,
to the sea.

Now, how's this for gall--
while I thought about calling,
I've spoken fuck all
to the people I thought of as family.
You'd think I was somebody famous,
to be so appalling, so shameless,
to cease and desist.
It still wouldn't absolve me of this.
What ever could?

I sat down outside,
ground my teeth till I cried,
feeling like I was lying,
a fraud.

Last night, all I dreamt:
you had lungs, you drew breaths,
and you claimed to be blessed
by a God who in life only failed you.
And who should know more about failure?
It's happened, as slow as a glacier,
and ten times as cold.

It's too much to ask to stay gold.
Gold turns deep red and umber;
gold leaves with strong wind and with thunder;
gold falls and gold rots inches under
a hundred close kin
who all were as gold as you'd been.