( Listening lies only partially under the control of the listener and provides a greater opportunity for objects of perception to exercise agency)

( The principle feature of city soundscape is random motion...it is pedesis, brownian motion, gausian noise)

(The geographic contours of urban life are thus networks between material environments and the intensities of perception, imagination, and fantasy, creating a feverish intensity)


Remember when the buffer was on? Any street, any face, every fight was won?
I recall when the margins were out, before friends turned into cranes Remember when the pressure would start? Little bugs, little glitches, easy cathartic?
It's something rather paramount to see the skyline in wonder haze

Why the running?
Why the pain?
Destiny Failure
A cruel urban game
Walking or running
Still or mobile
A foil, a mountain
A foot or a mile

Remember when the buffer was on? Any street, any face, every fight was won?
Recall when the margins were out, before friends turned into cranes
Remember when the pressure would build? Big bugs, big pitches, no time to yield?
It's something tantamount to these sounds of urban decay

Let's break from this language base
Take Schafer at his word

I see it in the orange glow of street lights
Reflecting off the dark urban sphere
Metallic shadows in a hue of calm caution
Where I learned appropriate fear
Different riffs sprung from the sound of chaos
During the hum and drive of giant turbines
Constrained no more by their metal lodging
Overwhelming is good sometimes

How do you fix the restlessness?
While selling time?
I look for my tabula rasa
As I ride the #5

Break what you tell yourself, wait must you turn it all down
Wait can't you check yourself, too late to forget and tune out
Break what you tell yourself, wait must you follow it down
Break with the train arrival, fight in the battle of the idles

Profile outdated
Contacts antiquated
Oh the embedded art
Returning to the start

We try and find a little piece of our imagined life, our own choices
Sometimes that measure lasts four years time, chasing glory

Going down the slippery slope
To the sounds of industry
The pressure it bears down

Learning the importance of curtains
Learning the necessity of masks
Do it for you, do it for me

A steel and carbon symphony
To the sounds of industry
The golden hearts start slipping down