One of the Second Best

by Zack Bissell

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about

Written and recorded at Someone's House Dec. 2015-July 2016 except for guitars and some vocals on Sky High Flying (recorded Jan. 2015). It was only through somewhere near one thousand or so computer crashes, a corrupted hard drive scare, and general other misfortunes resulting in frantic hair pulling that you have what exists here. I had fun along the way.

Thanks to: Taylor Kohl, John Mal, Barry Swars, Jordan Blanco, Katina Alexopulos, Jon Bafus, Drew Walker, Devin Grant, Blake Armstrong, my family, and friends. Eternal gratitude to Denis "Piggy" D'Amour, who's inspiration provided the spark here.

credits

released August 18, 2016

Zack Bissell - all instruments, vocals, mixing, and mastering

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Zack Bissell Sacramento, California

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Track Name: Time for Another
Light produced in certain rate, conducive in this state for use to accommodate, right now. Sight procured outside the gate need not reminding weight, excuse to regurgitate. Allow it, says the voice in the back of the room. What now? Hey, got the feeling it's a ploy to resume the dialect with modesty. But what's the point in even asking what for? Stand up, reach, shoot: it looks like someone's gone and locked up the door. Any way to surprise a fact before it dies. To and fro.
Track Name: Slipped in the Grass
The message read call back in a day or two, but you've gone and waited for too long. You slipped in the grass, the feeling will pass.
Did you veer off course from what you were expected to; accomplishing a means less than intent? These issues accrue, I do it too.
Waking up provided seems so plain to see, enough to measure worth in falling asleep. When the inflows attack, put the need in the bag.
I stood to gain something out of coming here, but it seems I made it depend on a possession of tact. This place is too packed.
A viewing from afar exposes truth and lie as something not more less but one and the same. It takes the two to weigh a thought and formulate if it measures up to what you've been taught. Mutate, know what is going through whatever choice you choose to make. Or not, so long as it counts for now way down from somewhere.
Track Name: Run On Home
Yes, today has come in ways a big surprise, but still don't know how breaking margins called it forward. The readings lessen with ease. Step away to see, it's good enough for now. Making sense against the vastness unknown. Who awaits the magistrate amidst the prow? You suppose they'll allow introspective reasoning, or vanish entirely? Does it matter if the answer makes no sense, or will you count it as a chip in your pile? Go. Laws dictate the climate of the seasons within a mode that they see fit to narrow the threshold, absolute although, one can eat themselves should they choose, but of course until they decree it necessary, arbitrary, to address this act with motion to implore removal of the mouth - OW!!!!!
Pounding subjugation, provocation for a plea: to rid one of this mindset of disease and to be free. We walked into an ordinary quotation seemingly of volition and something hit like, oh what was it: "I can not wake that which does not sleep" and so consequently we fled from the waves now ushered forth. "Run on home" said a voice way back in a crevice of the mind where null thoughts lie. "I want what you do because I do what you want, so run on home, there's no reason to be here." Yes, today has come in ways a big surprise, but still don't know how breaking margins called it forward. The readings lessen with ease. Step away to see, it's good enough for now. Making sense against the vastness unknown. Why await the call too great, and pass it by? Will even you comply? Nearby masters decompose. The readings lessen with ease. Step away to see, it's good enough for now. Pitching tents within the vastness unknown.
Track Name: Guffawed Heaves
I made quick work of something, still I'm dazed for the lack in which I tried with any effort to make it meaningful, in any way. I know it's okay to say that I'd rather not, from time to time, it's fine in ways I'd say I'd rather not, now and all the time. Tremble at the meager can, a lip fortune, any circle, many raise up and throw: Too much to phrase or less yet possible. Loud on the floor, living magazine, among a scene of things, any which to step up you have to pay the price you wagered with your birth today. A vow is just a claim, a term again used when it's yours to gain. Guffawed heaves will make quick work of us some way. I waited for a minute and the day's gone and hid itself away too far to see, too late to make what was to be.
Track Name: When We Get There
Time and time and time and time and time again. Hues of the sun radiate big ear. Lost in time and space, a cursor on the map we no longer have. Alas, we wait for the chance to go. To know exactly where we went wrong. What's to find we'll only know when we get there, if we get there. Time and time and time and time and time again. The view of the earth looks so far from here: blissful of it's ignorant inhabitants who have yet to hear the song the stars sang to us so long ago. We'll bring them with us if we can only manage to bring our selves back home. What's to find you'll only know when we get there. What's to find we'll only know when we get there.
Track Name: Sky High Flying
Spending the time looking for signs. Might something be happening that I missed? I'm blurring all the days and years with fears and beers together into one big mess. Spending each day the same exact way, or at least that's how it feels when I examine it. Giving all this energy staring at a wall that beck and calls: "back to work." Relax, take a breath and move forward, it's something that can be done at any time. Relax. These walls can disappear with will and will. Trapped and confined, herded in line. Who's role is it to say when to resist? What difference does your presence make at any rate? The bottom line remains the same. Do this, do that, laugh and grow fat "and perhaps one day you'll afford a spot for you to rot. That's the nature of the game you were born to claim, play it not, then we are through." Relax, take a breath and move forward, it's something that can be done at any time. Relax. These walls can disappear with will and will.
Track Name: Working With Space
When you break a fall and all inside your mind is just a perfect slip that was meant, and it really makes you think. What is the matter service that constitutes thoughts as being one's own? Time has shown, served up like a dish: you and you alone determine when you itch. Not the other way around. Dull static ahead, inert, will not compute. I want to fall. What is the matter service that constitutes thoughts as being one's own? Time has shown, served up like a dish: you and you alone determine when you itch.
Track Name: Checkmate: You Exist, I Win
Getting up, wishing well. Took years to see how much a difference things and places are not what they seem. Regardless of that, it's a matter of fact: there ain't a thing around that can be found that is exactly what you see. Oh, another feeling going out of the door. Night and day, wet and dry, wrong and right. Hey, or on or off, or off and on. A way between the worlds exists. In rebirth formulations matter. The right to see, but not to hear whatever's coming formless nearer. Spent in time with much to see. Where do reactions go? I lost my paper and my pen. When will this carelessness end? ............... [Not responding]