Young Adult - Aporia

by Young Adult

Aporia is a Socratic term for the feeling that accompanies the realization that one has returned to the wilderness where nothing is known. The album is best understood as an epic poem about reconciling with distance.

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For My Love, There Is A Light

Young Adult
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Apology

Young Adult
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The Black Veil's White Lining

Young Adult
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Georgias

Young Adult
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Hard Made Mind

Young Adult
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How Well

Young Adult
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Can We Know Ourselves?

Young Adult

Young Adult: Cory Driscoll, Sam Lloyd, Jeremy Shirley, Kemeys Goethe, and Caitlin Dunn.

Written by Cory Driscoll.

Produced by Cory Driscoll and Jeremy Shirley.

Engineered by Jeremy Shirley.

Visual Art by Cory Driscoll.

For My Love, There Is a Light

Lord, I am right where you left.
Lord, I am right where you left me off.
And my god, it'd feel so good to be found.
Oh my god, it'd feel so good to be found for I am lost.
But how black can black get?
How black can black get before its not?

As children we ran to the top of the hill
To look at where we'd been from there,
But when we went down the other side
I couldn't recall what the view was like.
How black can black get?
How black can black get?

Now your mother and I are moving further away
From the things we had thought before
And now I can't remember why
I had ever even wondered at all.
For my love, there is a light.
Oh my love, there is a light.

Apology

I remember as a child when on a cross-country drive, I thought about it and knew there was no god.
But in a basement in Chicago I learned how to get so high it didn't matter. I could be no one too.

All I ever wanted was someone who I could talk to about anything or nothing at all.
At sixteen I thought I'd found it. They said, "Son, you stay aground." But then I just flew off, off at the hinges.

(How long?)
Forgive me the past. Forget me and the marks I made.
(How long?)
Forgive me the past. Forget me and the marks I made.

My second love was stranded as a spirit in highway traffic. She was calling. I had the radio on.
Still sometimes I see her laughing at the black behind my eyes. It seems she knew how we were divided.

On a porch in Tallahassee, smoking cigarettes, arrested,
I didn't show it, but oh how I loved
The simple kind of magic in the way that we would laugh.
It didn't matter that we were doomed.

(How long?)
Forgive me the past. Forget me and the marks I made.
(How long?)
Forgive me the past. Forget me and the marks I made.

Sometimes I feel so lost I cannot possibly deny it
And all at once I am not but my bitterness and anger
Until I remember... Until I remember...

The Black Veil's White Lining

The fragments in patterns, The whole thing that happens,
The black veil's white lining, What light from that angle?
The warmth of a lover in bed, dead cold winter,
The warmth of a lover, The warmth of my lover,
In summer, cool water. The joy in my daughter.
The joy in my daughter. The joy in my daughter.
The joy in my daughter! The joy in my daughter!
The joy in my daughter! The joy in my daughter!
What joy!

Gieorgias

You took me into your loft apartment to listen to a song.
I was on some kind of something. You put on "Sugar on my tongue." Sugar on my tongue.

The morning came and went 'fore I noticed it was gone.
You smiled, in heat, a lightness came over, or so I thought,
"How can this be wrong?" How can this be wrong?

You're too close, you're too close, you're too close to me.
You're too close, you're too close, you're too close.
You can talk a circle around a person, sketch a singular suggestion, but I'm not there. No, I'm not there.
I'm not there. I'm not there. I'm not there. I'm not there.

We had a kind of a contagion though love was pure.
The demons in my head get in the way though, as do yours.
Where do we go wrong? Where do we go wrong?
Where do we go wrong? Where do we go wrong?

You're too close, you're too close, you're too close to me.
You're too close, you're too close, you're too close.
You can talk a circle around a person, sketch a singular suggestion, but I'm not there. No, I'm not there.
I'm not there. I'm not there. I'm not there. I'm not there.

Hard Made Mind

There is some kind of man that you could be if you meet them,
be if you meet the demands.
But run from the plan and the dirt you kick up,
all the dirt you kick up will cake blood to your hands.

Am I wrong? am I right? am I right or am I wrong or
am I right or am I wrong or am I right?
You could sink, you could swim, but the water won't wait,
no, the water won't wait for you to get in.

I didn't really want to go and I didn't really want to stay.
I was stuck there waiting, stuck there waiting.
I didn't really want to know what i wasn't yet ready to say.
I was stuck there waiting, stuck there waiting.
I didn't really want to go and i didn't really want to stay.
I was stuck there waiting, stuck there waiting.

I've known many loves. So how come when I wake up,
how come when I wake, I can only think of one?
With so many wants, my mind is hardly made up,
my mind is hardly made, but she's always at the front.

And slow goes the path. It seems like every two I take,
oh, every two I take, I take another back.
I feel apt to the task. I'll just act and you react
and then I'll act and you react until I ask.

I didn't really want to go and I didn't really want to stay.
I was stuck there waiting, stuck there waiting.
I didn't really want to know what I wasn't yet ready to say.
I was stuck there waiting, stuck there watiing.
I didn't really want to go and I didn't really want to stay.
I was stuck there waiting, stuck there waiting.

How Well

An outsider by choice, I was a pony-hearted boy
with my wishes in a bottle and a born apart devil in my ear,
saying, "I could get used to this."

With plastic bags full of peaks and valleys,
cocaine, codein, amphetamines, and vallum,
can you hear him saying, "Don't you get used to this?"

But was it the surface you scratched or rock-bottom you found?
How far can you go before you're too far below ground?
I fear that I could get used to this.

For my ego, my art, my obsession with darkness,
the sound of the crowd when they're forced into silence.
Can you hear them saying, "Don't you get used this?"

For every dusk there was a dawn. For every drug there was a dream.
For every girl there was a boy who was more than what he seemed
saying, "I might get used, but I could get used to this."

"I might get used, but I could get used to this."

But then the ghost of repeating pasts comes back and says,
"You are the same fool now that you were back then.
You want one to know you, one to want to, and neither to have you."

Can We Know Ourselves?

How well can we know ourselves? How well can we know ourselves?
How well can we know ourselves? How well can we know ourselves?

Of all the things that I've thought of all of the boys that I've been,
to all of the times that I lied to everyone that I love.

How well can we know ourselves? How well can we know ourselves?
How well can we know ourselves? How well can we know ourselves?

From my mother's womb to my father's hand.
From my brother's bride to my daughter's mom.

How well can we know ourselves? How well can we know ourselves?
How well can we know ourselves? How well can we know ourselves?

It wouldn't be what it is if we knew why it was.
It wouldn't be what it is if we knew.