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urgencytobleedSo, I wanted to make a Halloween mix, an idea that I first tried out on here awhile ago (almost three years ago, what the hell?!?) but wanted to expand to a more CD-filling running time. At first, I was only using songs that had scary/Halloween-y words in the titles but then I ran out of those and focused on songs with a creepy/haunting vibe to them musically and, in the end, both of those groups ended up being pretty equally represented. So it's not exactly strictly Halloween-based anymore but it fits the spirit of the season well anyway. Enjoy the music!
Dress the part, it's storytelling time. Sharpen your knives, watering mouths, clean your plates for some tender I. Tell me how the story ends now.
You speak quite a storm with that small mouth and I barely sleep in my own house. Stare at me and I might transform.
Maybe I should just turn around and walk away for no matter how much I really do want to stay, you know I can't, know it's too late.
Just like in the fables, a wolf emerged from sheep's disguise and swiftly turned the tables.
It's the men who feed on human beings and they dawdle about with their bellies hanging out. You can wash your fingers but they never leave. You can bite your tongue but it turns them on.
You ripped off my flesh and my heart gripped the ribs like a prisoner.
I sense there's something in the wind that feels like tragedy's at hand. And though I'd like to stand by him, can't shake this feeling that I have: the worst is just around the bend.
There's a pattern in the system, there's a bullet in the gun; that's why I tried to save you but it can't be done.
Let me show you the back room where I saw the dead, dancing like a children on a midsummer morn. And they asked me to join them but my body was stubborn, wouldn't let me give in.
Your bones glide in, a silent tear that mingles marrow when you disappear, a dance we weave beneath our skin. I keep you in me where the breath had been.
I woke up and he was screaming; I left him dreaming. I'll roll over and shake him tightly and whisper, "If they want you, well, they're going to have to fight me."
Everybody knows if you don't mind your mother's words, a wicked wind will blow your ribbons from your curls. Everybody moan, everybody shake, the Shankill Butchers want to catch you awake.
He sang nursery rhymes to paralyze the wolves that eddy out the corner of his eyes, squared him frozen where he stood in the glow of the furniture piled high for firewood and the blood runs crazy.
Your gilded eye, your sharpened speech you use to lend the light. A flask welder, your jaunty trade you use to pry the weight.
We are awakened with the axe, Night of the Living Dead at last. They have begun to shake the dirt, wiping their shoulders from the earth.
I was only a girl when I wore widow's clothes. I was unfaithful; I lived as I chose. I want only to haunt you but you're never there.
In the hallways they're lying there in the red blossom of the gaze. In your arms there is nothing left but we are all on the way.
When the drink goes in, the devil comes out. Days go by, still the past don't seem so far.
No one ever takes the garbage out; a neighbor kid gets dared to touch the house. He runs back only to announce there's no one home.
Can't let you know what's been happening: there's a ghost in our home just watching you without me. But I'm not here.
Dress the part, it's storytelling time. Sharpen your knives, watering mouths, clean your plates for some tender I. Tell me how the story ends now.
You speak quite a storm with that small mouth and I barely sleep in my own house. Stare at me and I might transform.
Maybe I should just turn around and walk away for no matter how much I really do want to stay, you know I can't, know it's too late.
Just like in the fables, a wolf emerged from sheep's disguise and swiftly turned the tables.
It's the men who feed on human beings and they dawdle about with their bellies hanging out. You can wash your fingers but they never leave. You can bite your tongue but it turns them on.
You ripped off my flesh and my heart gripped the ribs like a prisoner.
I sense there's something in the wind that feels like tragedy's at hand. And though I'd like to stand by him, can't shake this feeling that I have: the worst is just around the bend.
There's a pattern in the system, there's a bullet in the gun; that's why I tried to save you but it can't be done.
Let me show you the back room where I saw the dead, dancing like a children on a midsummer morn. And they asked me to join them but my body was stubborn, wouldn't let me give in.
Your bones glide in, a silent tear that mingles marrow when you disappear, a dance we weave beneath our skin. I keep you in me where the breath had been.
I woke up and he was screaming; I left him dreaming. I'll roll over and shake him tightly and whisper, "If they want you, well, they're going to have to fight me."
Everybody knows if you don't mind your mother's words, a wicked wind will blow your ribbons from your curls. Everybody moan, everybody shake, the Shankill Butchers want to catch you awake.
He sang nursery rhymes to paralyze the wolves that eddy out the corner of his eyes, squared him frozen where he stood in the glow of the furniture piled high for firewood and the blood runs crazy.
Your gilded eye, your sharpened speech you use to lend the light. A flask welder, your jaunty trade you use to pry the weight.
We are awakened with the axe, Night of the Living Dead at last. They have begun to shake the dirt, wiping their shoulders from the earth.
I was only a girl when I wore widow's clothes. I was unfaithful; I lived as I chose. I want only to haunt you but you're never there.
In the hallways they're lying there in the red blossom of the gaze. In your arms there is nothing left but we are all on the way.
When the drink goes in, the devil comes out. Days go by, still the past don't seem so far.
No one ever takes the garbage out; a neighbor kid gets dared to touch the house. He runs back only to announce there's no one home.
Can't let you know what's been happening: there's a ghost in our home just watching you without me. But I'm not here.
Tags:
- !mix,
- agent ribbons,
- andrew bird,
- beach house,
- bright eyes,
- cake bake betty,
- emily haines & the soft skeleton,
- fanfarlo,
- fiona apple,
- first aid kit,
- iamamiwhoami,
- kate bush,
- laura marling,
- los campesinos!,
- lydia,
- neko case,
- nina nastasia,
- patty griffin,
- shannon wright,
- st. vincent,
- stars,
- sufjan stevens,
- the decemberists,
- the morning of,
- the narrative,
- villagers
