by Mel Stone

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A little bonus EP while I work on the record.

These are in-progress versions of songs that will be on the next album, Fragments, so the the tracks that make the album, the lyrics will probably change, the arrangements may change, and I may even end up using different takes.



released November 13, 2017

Clara, for being in the right place at the right time

Francie the Take Destroyer for waiting until the very end to mew

Ty and Hud Bud for being so great and quiet

Chris for being such a great supporter

My trans book club for focusing more on snacks and tea than the book

You, for reading this far


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Mel Stone Portland, Maine

music, etc. || soup gang || "internet - poisoned"

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Track Name: Most Days
the ocean churns as it ebbs and flows
that's the way that life goes rolls in and fades out
face buried in a crowd then you face the darkness alone

the river runs red while you're skipping stones
it's a long way to go to get where I'm going
You're the well that I draw from I begged for strength that wouldn't come

what a waste it was to kneel down and pray
that this time you'll give up and stay
but pleading's as good as believing most days

i can find some sleep but it comes and goes
bathed in LCD glow wide eyed and worn out
brain buried in a cloud, then morning's screaming on my phone

i still wear your ring but it's missing stones
The sun is an anchor keeps me grounded and glowing
heavy and glittering chained and weighing me down

you can swear you got nothing to say
pretend you weren't carved out of clay
but singing's as good as believing most days

on, the dying flash of light, that keeps the mantles burning
the omniscient burst of time, that keeps the planets turning
collapsing into cold

the only hope inside the daily decay
is that tomorrow i'll wake up okay
but dreaming's as good as believing

now i'm this choked up and anxious cliche
in a slow motion breakdown display
but seeing's as good as believing most days
Track Name: Mess
she don’t mind waking up alone
she don’t mind talking to this empty home
quiet keeping her company
while the vultures scream circling drones

she don’t care what the critics say
she don’t care which name goes on her grave
darting eyes never settling
carrying through on her day to day

she says, yeah, I'm a mess but I'm trying my best
to be all that you expect of me
picture-perfect princess broke, broken, and depressed
just pretty enough to pass invisibly

she don’t want her failure to win
she don’t want to give up and to give in
the inescapable momentum
of the black hole where her heart had been

racing home sixteen miles to go
silence cuts through the radio
the sun is chasing her down

she never stops to rest will always second guess
every move every choice every day
on an aimless mission slave to indecision
free to sit and worry her minutes away

but despite all the stress she’s doing her best
but can't fight the raw gravity
so she's scraping her pennies and burning her twenties
so that some day she might be free

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