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Interstitial

by Kitty Hawk

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1.
Oh so sudden the police arrived the headlights of their car made the alley oh so bright Oh there he was visible to all with his pants on his knees in the middle of sexual intercourse with the prettiest boy the cops had ever seen Within five minutes all the media was there flashing lights ; clicking sounds It was their news of the day Prime time material It was what they all hoped for Finally the editors could write their beloved words sexual intercourse with the prettiest boy the cops had ever seen There was no more time to hide no more running No this was it His face on the cover of gossip magazine Such a pretty tag for the famous. It's what we all want to read But why do we read this? And why do we care? I’ll tell you why It’s because you and I Are a bunch of fucking Hypocrites Loved by all Loved for his flaws Loved like never before Loved by all of you No need for tears No need for shame Just cash your fame and drive away Cash your fame and drive away Be quiet Be quiet Be quiet And drive far away What’s that? Another divorce Public drunkenness? Another O.D? Of course... Another face Another cover Another gossip magazine Another tag for the famous And we keep buying this shit We’re fucking junkies We’re all fucking junkies You and I are junkies We’re all fucking junkies We’re fucking junkies We’re all fucking junkies You and I are junkies Addicted to this smack and crack
2.
With an absent mind I’m drawing lines into the sand Thoughtless figures emerge, meaningless at best Already spent an hour or four, waiting for my waitress A dog steals a bread - I light another cigarette I’m here Always I’m always here for you In the distance I hear some kids playing ball on a field - victorious cries The sun is burning hot, sweat dripples down my neck I squint my eyes and reach for my shades I’m here Always I’m always here for you I’ve been staring at this door for eternity times three This fucking parking lot is turning into a cage I feel trapped, yet I long for this place I’m here... But where the fuck are you? I’m near... But nowhere... where are you? I’m here But where the fuck are you? I’m here But got no fucking clue And then the door opens But still no sign of you This diner of disillusion Forms a black hole in my soul This must be real, right? This cannot be a dream, right? This better be real This better be true It better be real It better be you ‘Cause I’ve spent my whole life waiting for you With an absent mind I'm drawing lines into the sand Night has fallen over me, manifest of loss But the wait will never end if I will not give up With new found hope I light another cigarette
3.
They're unaware of what to do so devoid of hope in their so called homes a flatscreen tv the one last witness of this fucking epic tragedy All they know is what they hate Focusing on who to blame No scenes of serenity just the noise of their tv-therapy A letter to the studios a bus ride for hours A layer of make-up A list of what to say (and when to cry) And they spill their guts And they feel so cleansed TV-doctor will make it alright TV-doctor will save all their souls These five disillusioned lives Riding high on fantasies of fame All their flaws fixed so easily Through their magical TV-therapy Just one day in the studios And they all get flowers In layers of make-up A list of what to say (and when to cry) Another session of pseudo therapy “Hey man, look at me! I'm spilling on national tv” Dr Phil - save us... Save us from ourselves Dr Phil - save us... Save us from ourselves The audience feeds on this misery Leeches’ legal tender Commodified woe distillery Just to quench our thirst One session in the studios And they all feel better In layers of make-up Already forgotten what was said Another session of pseudo therapy “Hey man, look at me! I'm spilling on national tv” Fixing their flaws While flying on fame But the fame will fade And the flaws will stay the same Back home they find Empty graves for their minds A gun, legally obtained With all five bullets named: ‘Funeral for Five’ Waiting to fire
4.
...to wound this autumnal city So howled out for it to name me I am here because it called me Prism, Mirror, Lens... Have I lost myself and if so when and where? I feel that somehow I must know but I don’t even know who the fuck I am Days dragging Spent drinking Lost in echoes And distortions If I lost my name Does that set me free? I’m tied to this landscape Of saprophytic qualities The streets still have their names But the city is rearranged In a constant flux And so it changes us Dragging Drinking Echoes Distortions To wander this cerebral city Caught between these thoughts so gritty My name lost, now reduced to kiddy House of Ax Have I lost myself and if so when and where I feel that somehow I must know but I don’t even know who the fuck I am Refracting Words written When ashes Grey the grass The thought ‘I am going to die’ Yet blood still beats in my ears Is this what thinking feels like? Is this what it means to be alive? Does this mean my mind is gone? But what does that even mean? Is my mental illness real? Or just an illusion? You tell me Refracting Written Echoes And distortions I have come to wound Have I? Have I? Am I wounded? Am I? Am I? Healed or hurt Is it the same? I’m lingering in Ruins of confusion Dragging Drinking Echoes Distortions Do these notebook poems reveal truth About who I just might be? So howled out for the world to give me a name A ghosted smile Lit by two moons While a red sun Burns this city Forever adjustable Therefore unlearnable I’m still lingering, but I have come...
5.
When I was 26 years old I felt my life slipping through the cracks Felt the weight of the world like a noose around my neck I nearly lost it all, couldn’t give a shit I gave up, couldn’t take another hit I was gone, on my way Spirit broken, my body followed Yet at the ultimate moment A hand reached out to me Pulled me back, gave me a slap In the face and made me see For so long all I felt was Embracing fear and despair Yet seconds before I left I felt so much more When I was 26 I almost died but Norma Jean saved my life It hit hard, straight to the heart I was shown the way back to the light Now I know, to let go To keep on keeping on Let go Let go Let go

about

"Life lurks in the interstices of each living cell, and in the interstices of the brain” - Alfred North Whitehead

Being is process. Moving from what was to what will be.
Life happens in the in-between stages. In realms of potentialities.
We are all forever becoming, in and through interstitial processes of friction.

'Interstitial' is the second EP by the Amsterdam based band Kitty Hawk. It forms the first part of a whole that will also consist of another EP called 'Frictional' (to be released in September 2023).

credits

released April 11, 2023

All music by Roel van Diepen (drums, backing vocals), Daan Geus (guitar) and Jan Lenders (bass)
All lyrics by Niels Tubbing (vocals)
Recorded by Erik van der Paardt at Erik's House in Amsterdam
Mixed and mastered by Igor Wouters

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about

Kitty Hawk Amsterdam, Netherlands

Kitty Hawk is an Amsterdam based foursome playing thrashing alternative rock with a hardcore punk attitude. Terrorpop, so to speak.

Founded in 2016 they have released the 6 song ep 'Lines of Flight' in 2018. In 2023 they released the EPs 'Interstitial' (April) and 'Frictional', following both more polished and more intense avenues.
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