Somewhere along the Gooey Hudson river in New York, surrounded by hives and birds nest's. A plummeting neckline of pure molasses dilutes while carving a trail of stains, slowing the progess, falling jet soot changes it's colour while questioning itself, how genuine is the passing of bridges? Locked in Ecospace more noise turns to noise and feelers groom the ground. When John gets out of jail there's gonna be no more shoveling grass or trying to hide the lyrics on his guitar neck. Conscious as a bursting bubble, Mark's snare drum is screaming, " Imagination Kills More People Than Cigarettes !". Our supercollider is on ten and making everything uncomfortable, Pat has now wrecked thirteen cars and his boss has broken into eight, no one should have to explode on impact. Adam's guitar has been living with him for years and they have no heat or hot water in their mountain top hut. Up there they saw the U.F.O. Twice.
In Cellophane’s town - Poughkeepsie (Po-Kip-see) - A the murder capital of New York State, without a gun the streets just don't get ploughed. After shaking down some local drug dealers with their cap guns, Cellophane went to Scott's Mom's house and did "Hang Up's", making records in the apple orchard is healthy. Nothing is equal, right? When Mark's car was shot he didn't know the bullet hit him so he couldn't shoot back. Falling down the stairs has helped John remember more lyrics. Everything on "Hang Ups" is made up, so don't ask them about it, all the Cellophanes are deaf and dumb, Adam once said while trying to remember song titles, "If people weren't attracted to each other then everyone would be happy". They have too many low endorphin days. Maybe this where "Hang Ups" came from. CD's are too long.
Pat asks "If quitting wasn't fun then why do so many people do it?". Never tell the cop , "Fuck You", it costs too much. "In our pile of anxiety, we couldn't find each other and we lost ourselves" So while the grooming continues and three legged dogs get stuck in the trail, the jet trash settles on ice and someone is surely drowning somewhere, our pre industrial elting building conscience says " more operations please ".
John de Vries - Vocals