Borrowed Lines in Borrowed Time
Borrowed stories placed into borrowed funk beats.
Ragon Linde Lead and backing vocals, electric guitars, bass guitar, and drums
Featuring Performances by:
Michael Crowther Alto Saxophone on Tracks 1-9 and 10
Peter De Les Dernier Keyboards and synthesizers on all Tracks
Louis Doherty Tenor Saxophone on Tracks 1-9 and 10 Baritone Saxophone on Track 6
Conifer Linde Trumpet on Tracks 1-9 and 10
Horn arrangements Ragon Linde and Louis Doherty
Produced by Ragon Linde
All songs Engineered by Ragon Linde
All Tracks Mixed and Mastered by Justin Phelps, The Hallowed Halls in Portland, Oregon.
Cover Sketch and Design by Linda Maddocks in Portland, Oregon Graphic Design by Kai Rosehill CONTACT: email@example.com
© SLJ Productions ASCAP Copyright 2018 Your First Ocean Words by Carrie-Ann Tkaczyk Music by Ragon Linde
No taller than my knee when you challenge, your first ocean. Ankle deep you strain your body, against my tight grip throw head to sky capture the ocean’s roar into the cave of your mouth Even when the waves spill into you
CHORUS Watching you, I question do you remember your first ocean? Watching you, I question do you remember your first ocean?
fill you with your first taste of salt you do not bend from the task of challenging your first ocean. Today you turn your back to the same tide stretch and yawn, open wide that same cave that had taken in some primal catch to tell me you haven’t eaten yet.
Tormented Soul Words by Ragon Linde and Carrie-Ann Tkaczyk Music by Ragon Linde
Tormented soul, where did you go? with the whispering silence in your head. The two-headed monster came upon her snatched her up and it fed.
CHORUS From the taste of revenge she burned until her heart yearned until she burned to avenge what fed on her
oh, oh, two headed monster by the Christmas lights red, green, and gold he came to her that night said, close your eyes and she never told oh, no, she never told
Oh many years later on the TV screen She saw that monster give a speech He spoke of family values and the grace of god And audiences cheered what a good righteous man If she called him out they wouldn’t believe her What an opportunistic whore Why did she wait so long to speak up? And take this good man down
She pierced her pillow with her fist She cried herself to sleep The nightmare screams to the monster who was not there The pills and the booze couldn’t hide the shame she felt But she found strength from the fire that burned inside And one-day justice would be served
Tormented soul, where did you go? with the whispering silence in your head.
Suspended Words by Carrie-Ann Tkaczyk Music by Ragon Linde
I am orphaned at the center. The bridge yaws side to side ululates beneath my feet. To you fixed in domicile’s unyielding grip, it appears I stand upon ribbon candy little between me and death. Yet to me this axis is a nest, a nest
as secure as any, even the cracked boards, even the rope rails hook me far better than your slick, marble stairs. Yet my jangling course sways unnecessarily, irritates you where you stand locked in your door, taut, waiting for me to enter my own settled house. I am orphaned at the center. Only my shadow will complete this journey which I have decided must settle right here, right now, far from the end, the end.
Anthropocene Words by Ragon Linde and Carrie-Ann Tkaczyk Music by Ragon Linde
The ants, the ants, we are the ants The ants, the ants, we are the ants
silt, oil, sun, soil, sift it, turn it, toss, burn it, put it where we want. silt, oil, sun, soil, sift it, turn it, toss, burn it, put it where we want.
Every new age is the death of another This is, must be, will be too Every new age, dear, is the death of another Of the old. breaking ground for the new Anthropocene.
CHORUS This will be. Will be the death of you. This will be. Will be the death of you.
Our hubris has come undone We’ve sucked out all petroleum We’ve built our cities in the sand Spray painted boxes crisscross our land
Two billion, two hundred twenty-two million, three hundred sixty-six thousand, six hundred fifty four tons of food plundered just this year to feed us. Just this year. This is the face of seven billion The earth’s become our pavilion Hastily built and easy to clear.
We are the ants and this is our pile King of the mountains Damn! This is the face of seven billion The Earth’s now my pavilion Our new age is one long regression toward the mean Anthropocene
Put it where we want. Put it where we want. Put it where we want. Put it where we want.
Wake the Fuck Up Wake the Fuck Up Wake the Fuck Up Wake the Fuck Up
ANGRY WHITE MAN Words and Music by Ragon Linde
Angry White Man, what hangs in your head?
Angry White Man, who isn’t listening to you?
What does it feel like in the pit of your gut?
How long has it been since you felt understood?
Was it one person or episode? or a lifetime of betrayal that left you this way?
CHORUS Everything has to be black and white. Please I don’t want to end up like you.
You scare people off who may fuck up your lawn which welcomes no one but the scorching hot sun
CHORUS Everything has to be black and white Order and rules, keep ‘em in tightly drawn boxes
You fear the lazy, the humble, and sick Those with different traditions, ideas, and concepts Draw lines upon maps and say live over there or better yet far from here Somewhere deep inside that child was ignored Who grew up to build walls from the people he cared for
CHORUS Everything has to be black and white Jaded, heart hardened, with your piercing mean looks
You isolate yourself and shut your blinds in that faux upscale midtown apartment You shout get out get out! You use hurtful insults. that pierce through the most vulnerable parts! Loud voices and conjured fears Submissive bots who consent without love
CHORUS Crush those where they are vulnerable and weak Oh angry white man what kind of world do you want?
N.B. Words by Ragon Linde and Grey Graham-Atkinson Music by Ragon Linde
Feel invisible, in plain sight Based on how, I look and speak I have a secret I wish everybody knew Seeking validation for what is true
CHORUS Express yourself, what you feel Don’t let norms shut you down
Male or Female be yourself Outward appearance can deceive Lipstick and make-up, dresses and tights There’s more to me than meets the eye
CHORUS Some would say I’m a plain ‘ole guy But there’s more to me than meets the eye
Sensitivities on all sides Blur the boundaries and fuck the roles Take a moment before you judge It don’t add up or fit neatly in a box
CHORUS Open exploration, back and forth Are you feeling, that way too?
Out or secret, it’s alright!
Gay or straight, somewhere in between
Chose your pronouns that fit your gender
It doesn’t have to match, your genitalia
Some say Two Spirit or LGBTQ As for me, I’m non-Binary
Listen to your feelings Go beyond the expected and accepted Design your appearance, plan your look We change our minds, that’s the point
CHORUS Some days I’m full of confidence Some days it’s a struggle between wondering And seeking validation am I making Something out of nothing Unfalling the Stars Words by A. Molotkov Music by Ragon Linde
sorry door if I must bother you why don't you open wider and admit friends sorry song my mouth is not fit to sing you sorry distance my steps are not wide enough to cover you
so many stars fall, sorry life my words are not wide enough to honor you so many stars shine, sorry life my words are not wide enough to honor you to honor you to honor you to honor you
your last words hang over the threshold in an endless conversation with my past as I hang myself on a hat hook in someone else’s childhood while you laugh like you always do
Violence Words by A. Molotkov Music by Ragon Linde
Gray petals of bombs fall on us crack the body’s puzzle. We know how it bends to metal’s will how it forgets the meaning it carries, when broken. Some say the meaning goes away.
I want to see it. Burned eyes are petals from a black rose we love and fear even in our dreams. And you dream too,
we’ve seen your eyes rush under lids at the checkpoint of subconscious, burn through stolen scenes, what others felt when bombs fell. If petals are made of ash,
what can we know about the flower, its smell, its proud posture, it’s short-lived optimism? Some say the meaning comes later I want to see it. As you learn, your end, See the body’s ironic puzzle, its checkpoint, its unanswered question – you realize it too:
nothing is firm here, not even the harm we do nor how we carry and strangle, and fail to strangle the meaning of you. the meaning of you the meaning of you
Storm Rider Words by Carrie-Ann Tkaczyk Music by Ragon Linde
Years ago, when she started to glide her family tried to keep her on the ground, but not her, no not her, not her
When she broke through the sky To where no one dared to fly she knew she would die She felt all the passion, all the pain she would never be the same When she broke through the sky
But the day the storm rider was taken up, and up, and up thirty thousand feet high A spinning fruit fly tumbling past hail and thunder The winds tore her asunder
Until she, like Icarus, she burned the sky No chance to survive, no way to get down alive from that forty degrees below It all turned black and she prepared to go
When she awakes an hour later the wind smashes her down, Down, she is surfing down And then she lands on the ground Alive, still alive, she survived After scratching the thin veil of space. Thirty thousand feet when she survived.
When she broke through the sky To where no one dared to fly she knew she would die not the storm rider, she was only found in the oversoul sky, only found in life unbound
Opened Words by A. Molotkov Music by Ragon Linde
I watch a snowflake shape its notion of water into symmetry.
My eyes open me. I’m a mandala built to be erased,
a snowflake, a former crystal,
Now a water drop, Now a memory.