Carl Hauck

by Carl Hauck

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I wrote and recorded these songs as a high schooler, so be kind!

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released August 12, 2004

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Carl Hauck Chicago, Illinois

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Track Name: Rapture of Reverie
What does one do when the inspiration is merely sensory?
A mind set fast on satisfaction, a heart riddled by uncertainty
I found myself befuddled by the tragic rapture of reverie
Teacher, isn't this straddling lesson a tiny bit extreme?

I need an ear
But you bring your gavel along
I need calm, I need silence, forgiving eyelids, and arms that I can fall into
I need an ear

And you call yourselves open-minded
And you claim that you're quite tolerant
And you pride yourselves as anti-superficial
But what are these whispers I hear behind my back?

I threw back the glass not once but five times, destroying the cells of misery
I laughed and smiled the whole night long and never once did I feel guilty
Walk and walk and walk and walk and talk and talk and talk and talk - that's all I ever want to do anymore
Shot up the classroom, raped in the bathroom, but can't find love? Life's a whore

I need an ear
But you bring your gavel along
I need calm, I need silence, forgiving eyelids, and arms that I can fall into
I need an ear
Track Name: Punt
Staring at the backs of my eyelids
Striving to paint a picture of you
My attempts at art are futile
Illustrating beauty is impossible to do
Only I could be this miserable
Only I could make this turn out wrong
Incomplete on the first three downs
Now I'm left with fourth and long

I'm not one to kick it away
But right now I feel I'm wasting my time

I'm weary from all of your lying
From never perceiving the genuine you
The window is all too foggy
But I'm having second thoughts about breaking through
Only I could deem this significant
Only I could think but not act
If I'm all alone in this huddle
What's to keep me from being sacked?

I'm not one to kick it away
But right now I feel I'm wasting my time
Track Name: Possessor of the Microphone
I assure you, I'm as novel as the last act-
a walking piece of crap
plagiarism's abstract
For a lack of original work,
I'll sell myself short
and collect the riches for it.
When I run low on fictional tales,
on forced awkward rhymes,
on those standout lines,
it's hard to resort to the unentertaining,
to the blunt, the boring,
the truth-containing...
As possessor of the microphone
I demand your full attention.
Complexities, they need not be
when I'm able to say things simply.
Both repulsiveness in each strings vibration
and my sad excuse for poetry
abolish self-accreditation
of an artist with pride. I wish I could see
people singing back to me,
but my only fans, my only listeners,
are the pixels on my computer screen.
Regardless of how much the copper makes me bleed,
I'll remain an anguished instrument of mediocrity.

It's always been a dream
to just get up and leave
and to return as a stranger.
The mysterious is to the curious
as methamphetamines
are to the user.

This is the product
of nocturnal intoxication.
Should I reiterate the words sung out by a million other artists before
they kicked the chairs out from under their
dangling
feet?
There's only one
definite attraction,
my primary
distraction...
When time brings my final curtain,
there'll be no ears to listen in.
Resonance of repetition...
When will life begin?
Track Name: Blood-Stained Liberty
The symbol wavering over children as they play-
stripes of red wine poured across a bombarded blue sky,
dazzling explosions from sea to blemished sea...
It's cruel, but it's usual; it's ordinary.
There's no use in hiding behind justification
with microscopic inscriptions of gluttony.
We'll chisel two buildings out of their horizon;
an eye for an eye, then we can call it even.

Erase the inconsistency.
Beat the soil until it bleeds.
Extol the fumes of gasoline.
Imprison, liberate, and then proceed.

Demonstrate the right to bear your nooses.
Does this solve our fear of blatantly losing
control
of our sense of security?
Track Name: The Lesser is Cursed
Why do I shut the bathroom door when nobody's home?
Because I'm sure as hell there's no one watching.
I've wrapped my mind in police tape so many times.
Now every little thing is yelling caution.
I've got a skyscraper of textbooks obscuring my view,
an alarm clock at my side to keep the pace.
Yes, I may be a bit too preoccupied
with winning this superficial race.

Tell me who the hell remembers the second man on the moon.

If I was paid money for every hour I slept,
I'd be looking up at the poverty line
I'm lacking in identity, but deeds are all that show.
Just smile and shake the hand and I look fine.
An overdose of novacaine, status is all that matters
An overdose of novacaine, keep telling yourself that
An overdose of novacaine, status is all that matters
An overdose of novacaine

Tell me who the hell remembers the second man on the moon

The trunk is filled with boxes. She puts the car in drive.
And her caring friend who loves her - he's just a passer-by.
As the wheels roll forward, she glances to the right.
She sees only her reflection, but not to the outside.
With a tear in his eye, he opens up his lips.
They are dry from constant listening - he never got a kiss.
She turns up her stereo, never hears what he said.
The only thing he wanted was for her to think of him.

Tell me who remembers the second man.
Who remembers the second man?
Who remembers the second man?
Who will remember me?
Track Name: Long Drive
Say good night before the parking lot is vacant
Headlights at the crossroads, illuminating barren pathways
And you wish the passenger seat was occupied
So you'd have the motive to turn this car around

Don't hit the brakes
It's not worth it
Smash your rear-view mirror
No one's calling your name

Roll down the windows, invite in the numbing winds
Crank the knob to A/C; you're searching for sympathy, but it's not on the map
Your insurance has given up on you long ago
And you pretend that your companions are merely apparations

Don't hit the brakes
It's not worth it
Smash your rear-view mirror
No one's calling your name

Regardless of what I say
Despite my frustration
I can't suppress a smile
At the sight of you beaming
And this is what I loathe
Yeah, this is what I loathe
I'll take this chance to say good night

Good night, good night, good rest of your life
Track Name: Peccadillo's Beauty
So you think you're special?
Aren't we all a little hypocritical?
We all have rainstorms, but we're under the same cloud.
Hey you, the ugly one, stop assessing people by their looks.
Hey you, the stupid one, why don't you smarten up?
And all you sinners, go to hell.
And all you people judging, look at yourselves.

I pity the fool the who wants a perfect world.
The truth is it's a little more fun when the Devil's around.
So what am I doing here, still cooped up in this hole?
Am I waiting? I honestly don't know.
Track Name: Mourning After
I'm so thirsty because all my liquids have drained out my eyes.
Let's drink some Coca-Cola and go back for another round.
I woke up with a wet pillow this morning.
It's raining outside, it's raining.

I'm with you all the way to Ohio.
I'm with you all the way to Ohio.

The angels are weeping, just like the forecast said.
Staring at the ceiling, wondering why.
But why wonder why now?
I'm thankful for the chance to know you, the chance to be your best friend.

I'm with you all the way to Ohio.
I'm with you all the way to Ohio.
Track Name: Track of Mediocrity
My fabled attempts to triumph
Over this godforsaken game
Instill both a self-ignominy
And an optimism that's to blame

An aquaintance to all
Yet a friend or foe to none
The track of mediocrity
Is a plunge through hell for some
Yesterday's timeline
Wrapped around the circle on my wrist
Scheduled for repetition
I'm the future's witness

The heavens at night are all that's beautiful anymore

I cherish the stroll back to the station
The smooth jazz undertone, the glowing skyscrapers
For the moment lives a comfot in solitude
In the midst of blaring horns and the city pollution
It's dismal to realize there's a curfew tonight
Instead of watching stars, I'll have to settle for the train light
There's no longer refuge in this town, just the smell of smoke and booze
His mouth was telling lies while breathing me the truth

Echo, echo, echo, echo, echo, I can see sound