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Revel Hidden Worlds

by Liam the Younger

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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Up to Something, Music for a While, Austerity Measures, The Cover of Hunter, Revel Hidden Worlds, Clear Skies Over Black River, After the Graveyard, and Death Cult Cave. , and , .

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When you wake up in the morning and the sunlight burns your eyes, say, “Fuck the world! I’m going to shut these ugly blinds.” Now see me smile wide when I realize that it’s over— that the sun is far away. And see me by the river on the highway shoulder— see the night swallow the day. All our bodies went missing in the night. Now I’m standing by the water, the house is not too far. And old man and his daughter—they wave from a rusted car. Now see me gather wood in search of a fire and see my friends do the same. Now see me wipe the mud from an old truck tire and then hear them call my name. So, why should I be sad that nothing lasts forever? I’m just happy that things last at all! A day spent living by the bitter river— in its wake we hear it call. All our bodies went missing in the night.
All Here For 01:38
All here for—taken away and my white ceiling is turning blue today. But as my eyes close the night swallows another simple day. In the absence of some feelings I am really okay. My shoes are black now. They used to be black and white. It’s not that I’m unhappy—I just like to lie awake at night thinking of Blue Ridges, throwing rocks across the stream, or the bus over two bridges, and reflected river gleam. I am silent, I am happy even thought I look pissed off and when I’m with my friends I act sarcastic and I scoff. Only to fill the hours with some contrast to routine— everyone, I like you, really! I am sorry if I’m mean.
Lie 03:31
Why can’t I do what you tell me to? Flicker on your Flickr account, expand and softly glow while I hide and refuse to come out before the sun hangs low. And so you go and post and post on matters which do matter most and a holy ghost is coming close with pointed hand at empty host. There’s no escaping this. This is emptiness and unhappiness and wastefulness. But you can find such peaceful bliss as long as you remember this: Why can’t I do what you tell me to? Earth angel, earth angel: I love you!!! There’s soft light bending the trees, the morning is seeping through. A swirling blend of the yard and me, a chorus of early hues. So, no more aches and no more fears and no more rides through nauseous years. Just sitting in bed with skies so clear and flickering light is finally here. So I’ll light the door. I’ll light the door. Yeah, I’ll light the door. I'LL LIE!!!
There’s a skull on the floor so no one calls anymore. Oh, such a drag to endure! What do we bother for? But there’s no expansion, no growth when you hold what you love the most. And all that I have is the moment’s ghost but I’m happy to hold it close… And maybe we knew long before, as the mist covered the glowing shore. And the hum crept through the screen door. My lack was fine. I wanted nothing more.
Turn 02:36
Turn after turn and day after day there's not much to say if you look at it my way. But I am only learned in so far as I can burn any effortless concern, so rare when it returns. As those particles take shape in their resurrected wake I can fix and I can break, I'll destroy and I will make. No matter what it takes I will make myself feel great even if it's way too late to make sense in easy ways. And all those drugs that I don't take for my little selfish sake, that some of you do say, "Hey, this makes me feel okay." They don't speak to me like truths, like You Can't Win and You Can't Lose-- you simply have to choose: should I heal or should I bruise? And my answer rings so clear like scary headlights on a deer-- they illuminate the fears that had no reason being here. So as my familiar runs away into a night that feels like day I give thanks and I give praise to that wonderful escape. So turn. Just turn.
Candle 04:23
I have no chance at holding that which I can’t hold so I’m constantly repeating do as I am told. Because our parents aren’t out to get us, we were not born to be sold. So in a house with jam-packed seating I will not piss and moan: “If I had the perfect body” “If I had the perfect friends” “If I had the perfect family” “If I met the perfect end” “If I knew the perfect twenty-something with the perfect earth-toned dress” “If I had the perfect house with the perfect sheets on a perfect bed… I would somehow be fulfilled and have the right chemicals in my head and the world would cease spinning and the dead would be un-dead. So what should we feel? Just do what you will. Perfection myths are set aside and everything’s homemade. With leaning trashcans open wide we still celebrate. Now there’s no more need for makeup to reveal some hidden thrown. No more magick (with a “ck”) to be faked and to be sold. There’s just staring at the candles in an old four-cornered room where we sit alone and close our eyes and let our living loom. There are wooden chairs and basement lights and slowly fading walls and certain sorrows reveled bright and current joys stand tall. And remembering the van at night with friendly faces all. So, before I dress and go outside and make that first phone call imagine a window covered by a flag. A basement room in some weird state that overlooks a road that someone else is walking down alone today. Today, we celebrate.
Window 03:47
I am so excited I was not invited to do things I don’t want to do. Though I’m provided with things that I like it’s not why I talk to you. Beneath a sky, it’s blue, so am I but I am my blood through and through. There’s no need to cry it’s him, you, and I and we all accept that it’s true that none of us know what to do Through window I see a red room and now that oft slandered hue crawls out the door, in to you. So, close my eyes and try, oh please, try to make this night not move. Don’t buy the lies they sell every night to people who think less than you. But I’ll sympathize with those muffled cries of people who need to be soothed. Sometimes it’s all right to say, “So am I!” even though you’d rather just prove there’s no reason for having the blues when someone cooks dinner for you and someone says, “I love you too.” Because some of us don’t make it through. At least we have something to do. At least I have something to lose. At least I try.
Ode 02:42
I don’t know if they love me if anyone could ever love me like I do. Because once someone held me oh, once someone held me but that’s through. And my eyes are blue and skies are too. There’s no sickness to soothe, no oversight to prove that nothing’s worth keeping with constant sickly creeping, no arrogant delusion that can do what death do. Because when they say, “No, thanks” I think they really mean “No-thanks” There’s no thankfulness in living like some do. I’m not scolding you. Just do what you will do. But please try to include the people who serve your food.
Open side door, too late, too sore. I’m glad there is cold moon rising. So long, so fast, dead wrong, dead last. No one can pass that hole, so vast. Too wrong, too late, my wall, so gray. That is okay. “Okay” means “Great.” Sometimes please wait until next day. Clear skies, dark ground, soft song, soft sound. Rubber skeleton draped in American flag on my sill. At night, thou wilt do what thou wilt. Just try to sit still. Goodnight for my. Goodnight to myself.
Bob Dylan 02:15
Oh, where do I go? Through the raining water, through hot wind and cold snow. I sang about a death cult but what would I know? How many special messages to go? Oh, but no one told me. No one. Oh, where do I go? Through the lonesome graveyard in Sleepy Hollow. I sang about a specter but what would I know? How many special messages to go? Oh, but no one told me. No one.
Door 03:07
Close my eyes and I will see days go by so easily. So open the door back to where I should be. A house is a house is a home is for me. Now I am gone, now I am dead, singing song alone in my bed. Human skull, human head… fall asleep, leave it unsaid. Fall asleep, leave it unsaid.
Hollow 03:58
Am I hollow? Am I full? Can I borrow what you stole? There’s no sorrow when I look at the floor. There’s just no feeling when I am alone. No fears. No tremors. Just my home. And tomorrow will good. So when you feel low—it’s understood. It’s not too far though. So you should ignore. There’s just no reason to try, so I don’t. A light is shining by the window. Now I’m sleeping and warm and alone, past Hungry Hollow, towards my home.


Liam Betson: vocals, guitar, bass guitar.
Ian Dykstra: drums
Recorded at home between May 2008 and February 2009
Mastered by Carl Saff
All songs written by Liam Betson
Released by Brave Men Run in 2010


released May 3, 2010


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Liam the Younger

Liam Betson is a North American songwriter.

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