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Matchforcer 2: Call of the Occupant

by The Mispronouncer

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1.
Occupied 02:38
1. Time carries me in its teeth by the scruff of the neck, Tell me if it makes me tougher to respect. I have been a minor figure in my own disasters, But expect praise for avoiding choking hazards. I am a barnacle on the bottom of my own boat, Trying to pretend that I’m helping keep it afloat. Somehow still feel too young to get impatient, Still waiting to begin embracin’ desperation. They told me if I wore the armor, I could never come to harm, But they never warned me of the chafing in the underarm. If I’m being honest, I am feeling fine in coach, But I’d like a window seat for the final approach. My five-year plan didn’t get me very far ‘Cause I hitched my wagon to a stationary star. Hanging straight down in the sky without moving Trying to determine if my prospects are improving. Chorus: When you hear the knock, Your presence cannot Be denied once you’ve replied “Occupied!” When they pound on the door, You cannot be ignored, Once you’ve cried, “Occupied!” 2. It’s like deciding to be content with my portion’s The same as officially declining to find fortune. Too afraid of snakes to be tempted by the serpent, But too struggle-averse to not surrender to the current. I’m flying like a drone without weaponry, Waiting for whoever’s at the controls to begin respecting me. Instead of flying me in figure-eights over landscapes for heaving sighs in, Steer me toward the gleaming skyline on the horizon. I appeal to people without clout. Just one of many ways I keep word from getting out. Always in favor of redefining failure. There’s no such thing as a reliable narrator. These other suckers keep chasing provocateurs, They don’t see that the hook isn’t just a part of the lure, It’s the whole reason for the lure’s very existence: To punish go-getters for their dogged persistence. Chorus: When you hear the knock, Your presence cannot Be denied when you’ve replied “Occupied!” When they pound on the door, You cannot be ignored, Once you’ve cried, “Occupied!”
2.
My Ship 05:00
1. I am always in the market for a bigger blessing, Like a formal event will materialize by the time I’m finished dressing. I am finished guessing, finished wondering like others wonder. Finished lumbering encumbered by the weight of crunching numbers. I am more than content to sit and wait for circumstance to favor me, I might say, “Hurry up, I’m dying,” but I say it patiently. My confidence is never diminished by my incompetence, I’m fully autonomous yet reliant on providence. My ship is on its way, approaching at the speed of light, Knowing that it’s coming means I know I don’t need it tonight. Not saying I deserve it or I’ve earned it, just that I expect, Eventually our separate trajectories will intersect. That’s all I need to justify never not staying the course. I don’t believe there’s such a thing as un-gross displays of force. Maybe I should make an effort not to be a moving target, Find a spot to park and start a-rolling out the scarlet carpet. Chorus: When my ship comes in, The featured presentation will begin. And everyone who rolled their eyes at my opening act Will be scrambling to be the first to roll them on back. When my ship gets here, The main course will finally appear. And everyone who tussled over crusts of bread Will wish they’d saved room for my hearty stew instead. 2. When it comes, it’ll come bearing me gifts. I’ve got two humble speeches that I’ve been preparing in shifts: One is mostly gratitude for God and my folks, The other’s similar but with a couple alternate jokes. I scan the skies with naked eyes, scan them with a telescope. It’ll take more than numerous no-shows to dispel my hope. It’s a “when,” not an “if,” maybe “where?” never “why?” How could I lose sleep worrying that I’ll never fly When my ship is gonna find me down here on ground level. Not gonna say I long to soar just to sound special. It’s better than an inheritance, better than winning lotteries. It’s a validation of a widely-mocked philosophy. I’m 33, I’ll wait until I’m 43, or 53, or 93. Outlasting every clock-watcher timing me. Or else my ship’ll come in tomorrow or even sooner or now Or now, or now, or now, or….now! Chorus: When my ship comes in, The featured presentation will begin. And everyone who rolled their eyes at my opening act Will be scrambling to be the first to roll them on back. When my ship gets here, The main course will finally appear. And everyone who tussled over crusts of bread Will wish they’d saved room for my hearty stew instead. Bridge: I don’t blame you try-hards for trying hard. When you don’t know if you’ve got a ship on the way Then I understand feeling like you can’t waste a day. I don’t blame you try-hards for trying hard. When you feel there’s a good chance no ship’s coming, Then you’ve gotta break a sweat or you might end up with nothing. 3. Staying limber, when it lands I’ll be ready to unload. You never fret about routes when there’s only one road. Push-ups and haircuts: how I prepare for what the future holds: Thriving on what my ship brought me until I’m super old. It’s flying past comets, stars, habitable planets. I’m the face that put a single life-altering ship in transit. That’s all it’ll take for me to get my quota filled. Nine hundred and ninety-nine more would only be overkill. Tell me my approach is a symptom of my entitlement. But all conquest is at least figuratively violent. But I’m just hanging out, letting live and living, Watching set jaws hustle by, forgetting and forgiving. And when the smoke clears, there’s a cloud of dust, And when the cloud of dust clears, I will cough and adjust Not even one element of my master plan, I’ll skip Every conditional break, waiting for my ship. Chorus: When my ship comes in, The featured presentation will begin. And everyone who rolled their eyes at my opening act Will be scrambling to be the first to roll them on back. When my ship gets here, The main course will finally appear. And everyone who tussled over crusts of bread Will wish they saved room for my hearty stew instead. (x2)

credits

released July 11, 2016

Saint Ion drew the cover art.
Denise Wolf touched up that drawing with a computer in order to make it more viewable.

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The Mispronouncer Redlands, California

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