shut in

by pigeon pit

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1.
2.
02:36
3.
4.
03:17
5.
6.
02:44
7.
02:49
8.
02:16
9.
02:01
10.

credits

released June 1, 2015

all songs written/performed by lomes
art by lomes and jack wolcott
archie sings on tracks 1 , 3 & 6
ruben tierie & august carroll recorded & mastered it in oakland , ca
blow up the sun

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about

pigeon pit Seattle, Washington

stories from a young agender witch falling in love with her bicycle, navigating storms and streets and relationships, never searching for her home, because her home is beneath her, taking her through narrow streets inside her head, into bakeries and oceans and arms. pigeon pit is a collection of stories wrapped in sunburned skin and a brave heart from a small beach town. ... more

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Track Name: nights like these
strawberry stained fingertips chain smoking binge-watching netflix bike grease in my hair blood on your jeans blisters on your feet a huge grin full of teeth the california drought the smell after the thunderstorm that knocked the power out . sweat soaks up my handle bars . i want to die with all my scars . if they don’t like the way we are , then fuck them . and i stayed up , chain smoking in the kitchen until you got home and the curtains were on fire . fuck , i’m sorry you feel all alone . with the t v blasting shadows on my face — hitching back to the apartment — it was such a lonely place . i place my head between my knees and think:
“ do you ever have nights like these ? “
so separated from my sense of self and the shit you keep up on your bookshelf . so i just take another sip . i keep falling off and eating shit and forgetting to unclip . the sun will rise another time , for now it’s me and you , our bikes : we trip and stumble , laughing , to the park . the flea bites laid out on my wrist the heart shaped blister on my palm the handlebars had etched my body is out on my back porch my brain is fucking somewhere else , on the roof with the flags we torched .
Track Name: f.m.i.d.
lately i like to take walks after work wearing nothing but my undershirt , the wind picking up my eyes , the blood rushing back to my heart . there’s a show on the corner with some kids i met in oakland . you’re sitting on the roof of your car parked right outside the record store . have you seen my self esteem? it’s picking up it’s feet out of the gutter it was laying in . “ just blowing off some steam . “ it’s fine , let’s walk the tracks until my shorts are ripping at the seams , we’ll drink a forty and play polo in my single speeded dream . when she gets drunk she calls me loser and i get worried that i’ll lose her and have to make a bunch of new friends in another stupid town and play my gameboy on the front porch at pergs , trying to realize that the butterflies that live inside my stomach gotta die . i leaned back and looked up , it said :
“ fuck me , i’m drunk . “
in sharpie on the ceiling of the seventy six in downtown arcata . this town’s gone to shit . one day i’ll learn to commit but for now i’m throwing pumpkins down the hill at laurel and california . my lungs are blacker than the perique packs and pupils in your eyes after the forty minute real talk , all the way to in and out , we drive each other to out tipping points . there’s months of lean blunts , pizza joints . there’s nothing like the shit you find out talking to your mom so late at night . and even though it’s been getting easier lately , it takes a lot to convince me that people don’t hate me , and sometimes when i’m in the car with you guys i feel like maybe i’m not that crazy . i’m getting better , and some day i’ll get all this straight inside my head but right now i’m still trying to learn how to keep a steady circle of friends . but you gave me cocaine for my nineteenth birthday , and about a year ago that day we almost got arrested at the movies , and i was just there talking with my hands shaking in my pockets . i looked at you and read your lips , they said :
“ i’ve got your back if you’ve got mine . “
Track Name: the cigarette song
i am a cigarette in the front pocket of your leather jacket and my life feels stagnant no matter how far you carry me . i murdered my parents and all of my friends ; it becomes quite apparent that my life will end with my head bashed in and bleeding , crushed beneath your boot heel . we stand on the levee and my heart feels heavy . fuck , this isn’t healthy , your hand is so heavy . i wish we would both fit on my bike , but there’s just room for one . i ride off to the sunset , gun on my hip and my brain is a train set: nothing is real, but it runs nonetheless.
Track Name: wichitalk
freeway signs that i hid behind , i had no idea what i was missing . (wichita) talk your heart out and you know that i will listen . every year that passes feels like just a couple days . you were passed out on the tracks when i had thought i heard the train . and so i carried you through the thick and thin , we were thick as thieves, we were close as kin . coffee and nicotine pumps through our veins . as you start to cry i try to explain . we were in the trench our clothes were drenched . i could feel the bad news coming to the west coast . i’ve got forty ounces asking me:
“ what do you miss the most ? “
i feel so fucking selfish asking you these things . maybe, if we made it out to oakland we could drown these rotten dreams . but i’ve got no excuse, nothing to blame for the horrid thoughts in this wretched brain . nothing makes no sense so i speak my mind:
“ i haven’t moved on yet but holy shit i fucking swear i’m trying .

and i was just wondering if your sister was alive,
what do you think she’d look like in high school? “
when you said :
“ come on in, the waters fine . ”
i whispered :
“ i don’t want to hurt you . “
and right now i can’t help but ask you :
“ do the dead grow older too ?
as much as i loved being ten years old, i like to think they do . “

nothing makes me crushed like that greyhound bus reading bright yellow (wichita) . i want to go back down , to the pitcher’s mound where the midnight oil burned . you told me to grow up while i was throwing up in the del mar bathroom stall . it’s hard to make amends when your best friends stop returning all your calls. and when you placed your hands on either side of my meager frame , where the fleas reside , with the panicked look on my pallid face , i climbed through the thorns and thistles ( i couldn’t see shit , so ungrateful ) thinking to myself:
this isn’t happening .
Track Name: tall black trees
moonlight comes in filtered through smoke rings next netflix episode plays and that means that maybe you are staying over . you fell asleep smoking your cigarette it started to burn your hair . it smelled fucking awful but that’s the only thing that I ever want to smell . you woke up before me and found my beer cans in the shower . I would be embarrassed but I sleep in after you for hours . the morning sun comes in filtered through smoke . you cooked polenta and mushrooms and that is the only thing I ever want to smell . i have never felt so overwhelmed and anxious . i don’t think I’ve ever seen myself so distant and dismissive like when you and i kick off our shoes , we ‘ re standing dancing in your room and i know that you ’ re going through some heavy shit right now but i am fucking terrified of all the tall black trees that line the road that takes us right behind your wild seeking olive eyes . i don ’ t want to wake up . i don’t wanna go to work . i want to die inside your room . i don ’ t know how many miles it will take me to escape out of this forest I feel growing up around me and i don ’ t know how many burn marks i will leave before this place catches on fire and I burn down my anxiety .
Track Name: freak me out
a bright light woke me up at two a m because i fell asleep talking to you again . i am chasing circles in my head , alarmed , alone , anxious , and afraid . i’m thinking:
“ why is it that i’ve got to fall in love with anyone that gives me any bit of attention? “
and i know all the reasons , but they’d be so scary to mention , so some nights i stay up and i get angry , but these days i’m so tired , so now it hardly ever happens .

i remember i was cold one night on upper burnside , but i thought about how warm you were so it wouldn’t really matter anyhow . you gave a most tremendous shout , and when the planets and the stars came out , it really kind of freaked me out .

it’s hard for me to think it’s not so pointless to go to work and go to sleep and wake back up because all these stupid dreams keep me awake , so i just sing my sad songs and read my sad comic books and cry out of the saddest eyes i’ve got . every once in a while from on top of my ten speed i feel happy , but that doesn’t happen a lot . i know i’ll feel better in a couple of weeks , but until then i guess it’s just you and me : just a couple of kooks wearing doc marten boots drinking beer on the side of the street .
Track Name: no brakes
april blooming white jasmine spills over on to the worn out floral pattern couch where I have been waiting . hey kid i think our vessel is sinking under the weight of our dark as black coffee spiked with cheap whiskey thinking . i stand up at the front of your bed pull down the sleeves on my beat up black and white wool sweater squeezing the little red marks on my wrist where I made some mistakes . minds blank and limbs bruised , stomachs full of black coffee and plantains . in the thick smoky fog of your bedsheets we have dug our graves . seattle is just around the corner , i feel excited and nervous, and a little bit cornered . we shave each others heads to escape the heat and take to the streets , and we rise in the late morning on new year ‘ s day to our feast of leftovers and falling back to sleep in the sun in your front yard . i think about how long it ‘ s been since i ‘ ve felt so full and safe and warm , and i ride downtown on my bike all the same with my headphone in — eyehategod — and no brakes . days like these got me smiling so hard it hurts my face ; i ‘ m going to wake up tomorrow , whatever it takes .
Track Name: red october
paper maché flasks we’d never drink from hand made opaque masks you’d never think of an adderall nightmare you couldn’t dream up and when the morning comes , you never wake up . escape the winter winds within the theater ; a poster pin up girl , you’ll never meet her . you know you won’t get back your dad’s old sweater . you got to remember that things, they will, get better .

and i know that you don’t think i’m coming home and it’s been too many weeks over the phone and i don’t know i long i can go with it alone because i’m still trying to learn your do’s and don’ts

separate . medicate your awful headache . what you make of your day keeps you awake . olympia won’t wait for the winter . breathe into my glass and i fog over . that’s when the world get’s weird , in red october . i hope you know i will say sorry when i am sober .
Track Name: d.i.y.
you were born alive and well ; you were just fighting for yourself in kansas , 1 9 8 9 . you made peace with your parents — or the companies , at least — when you bought them their birthday cards , and you ran into their bedroom screaming , “ wake on up , it ‘ s morning ! don ‘ t just waste away the day ! “ , and in 2 1 years , everything that you learned turns and betrays you . you were scared and very nervous on the first day of school , when you moved here from out west , and the self righteous sultans of brooklyn took you in and you played baseball in the streets , and you were very scared , but the city never sleeps , so i stayed up with you over telephone wires ; the empire state that claims your heartache .

don ‘ t sacrifice work for subliminal health ; if you want something you have to do it yourself .
Track Name: eat your heart out, kimya dawson.
call me kooky , call me crazy , all my friends have fucking rabies , lice and scabies , maybe . trust me , santa cruz police department grunts are shady . monday funday , cheesy tuesday , farmers market money wasting . rid our coffee shop of wannabe-punk misogynist tailies ! this world is scary but that's o . k . if we work hard then we can fix it . climb the roof , turn on the bat signal : all the homies come and kick it ! i haven't seen a bar of soap in weeks but fuck , i feel terrific ! the ocean down the street from my house is anything but pacific .

and if i were to die right now in some sort of fiery explosion due to the carelessness of a friend , well that would just be o . k . and how the fuck can you live your life with an ambition other than helping others and having fun , and think that that's o. k . ? maybe that's just what i needed to smash into the side of my skull : 1 6 ounes of baja blast as the pickup truck peeled out and drove off . i didn't wake up with my clothes on for the second time this week , i guess that's progress , but it's not cuz i'm not getting any sleep , so please don't ask me all the reasons for what i write into these songs cuz for this one some fucking bro said i sound like a dude version of kimya dawson and i'm not a bro so fuck off you cis het piece of shit .