The Convent EP

by persons. places. things.

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about

Most of this EP was written during the summer of 2013. I would spend my days by the Cuyahoga River, chiefing cigarettes and chugging coffee, writing words that were meant to be confessions before they were meant to be poems. They've since been adapted to music and made into songs, which we all hold dear to our hearts. Although the band has moved on from most of these tunes, persons/places truly hope that you will listen to them all alone, reflecting on the thoughts, guilts, tribulations, and emotions of a typical human. It's sappy bullshit, but we all harbor the need to be melodramatic and desperate from time to time. I sang the words to fulfill that need, and I hope that you listen to these songs and find the courage to do the same.

-Chris DiCola

credits

released May 13, 2014

Chris DiCola- guitar, words
Nick Fondale- drums/bongos
Greg Ruff- bass

Engineered, produced, and mixed by Chris
Mastered by Jake Pastor
Photography by Josh Richey

Thank you to Father Dan Begin for the convent to practice and record in; you made this band possible and we forever appreciate that

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persons. places. things. Cleveland, Ohio

A Cleveland band dedicated to making meaningful music

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Track Name: BBQ (Teenage Mistakes)
I'm in Max's basement with a bag of pork rinds
that expired in the 90's.
How in the fuck are these supposed to taste like barbecue?
I'm not welcome here anymore.
So tomorrow night I'm facing sleeping in the car,
I don't have enough gas to get home
and this family don't love me no more,
since I fell for her upstairs.

I've got a list of people that I'll never make amends with,
petty as the ones who cared about who I was friends with.
I've drank too many nights away to bother remembering my fuckups,
but sometimes they come up;
sometimes the wind blows like it did on a day you regret
and suddenly it all rushes back.
And you chase it down your throat
to flush it out and burn another hole in your brain.

I'm always shaking at the hands,
my ankles feel weak,
the moments that I'm proud are growing few and far between
I'm knee deep in ashes in a ravine
beneath a space a bridge once gapped.
I've never been much of a talker, so suffice to say,
my words, they hold a hell of a weight.

And when they get too heavy I take off some pain
and I lay it on somebody I'm gonna miss.
Track Name: Making Small Talk in my Parents' Driveway at 2AM
I stepped outside,
wearing any pair of shoes that I could find.
The neighbor was out taking a walk.
I guess we both just had to clear our minds.

If I'm popping out for a smoke
to deal with what I've been dealt,
how heavy will these burdens be when I have a family?
What am I going to turn to?
Will I take long walks while they sleep, like the fireman down the street?

I'm afraid I won't be that calm.
Track Name: I've Been Sleeping Alone and in my Clothes
All the girls I've been involved with sleep in such big beds.
I bet it gets so lonely.
Is that the only reason anyone has ever been interested in me?

They were just that lonely.
Track Name: Singing Songs Without Words
I put all the loose change I find
under the cushions of the couch
I lost my virginity on
I know it's the first place I'll look
if I need to pay for parking.

Do you think you could come over, and we could go out?
Looking for change to feed the meter.

Singing "So Long Lonesome" on my couch
Wearing our best clothes to wind up staying in
Track Name: Hopeless
Sleeping in church parking lots and cars for a week only sucks when you get home and you're normal. But on the seventh day I rested on your floor.

A man will shake the whole damn night next to his ex's comfy bed.

Good graces will take you down the East Coast.
Good graces in Cincinnati broke my heart.
I know I don't sound very grateful,

but I am.

And in a couple of hours I saw where all the time had gone.
Then I got drunk and forgot; but you don't have to have the most
to have it made.
You've just gotta keep your head up.

~~~

So if you see me, I can guarantee that I'm smiling for composure.
So if I see you, I'll be breaking. Because you're not the kind of girl someone gets over... it's never over. If I could just remember where the time has gone; my shoelaces have me by the neck, I'm looking down.
A captive to my Converse, closer to the ground. I stole a Sharpie from a Lion's Den and wrote "boy, keep your head up" on top.

I don't have you, but I don't have to have the most to have it made,

I've got it made.
I've got it made.
I've got it made.

REPEAT UNTIL I BELIEVE IT.