"Strange" and Zachary Hale, Satan.

Ryan has uploaded "Strange," a new track made from old material. This song is previously unrecorded.
This is a very personal song, from a very personal project, a "band" to be named Zachary Hale, Satan. "Vampire Hunter" is also a song from this project.

This has been a somewhat distressing song to produce. It's been in the making for months, and this is only a rough draft. There will be much more development. The awkward transitions and vocal entrances are entirely intentional. It's a stylistic thing, I suppose.

For those of you that were there for the writing of this track, I hope you receive it well. Have a nice day.

"Strange"

Jane, we'd been starving as we picked at the frays
Of your name...
(Oh look where talking led you to.)
Jane...as the fruit had all rotted away.
Jane, (Is it all cozy or enough for the wait?)
You okay?
Oh, which was the best to you?

We react to disaster the way the best news broadcaster reacts
To the teleprompt programmer's writer's block.
Must've looked lonely after the flood bathed the Mother
Of the withering waste we called two o' clock.
(And I cleaned up, okay?)

Profane words aren't always easiest to say, Jane.
(Hey! Who cares? I said them anyway.)
Jane, I wrote a letter all full of cremains,
(Who cares? I read it all today.)
To show that dust is something too.
In Reader's eyes, the Writer's through.
(The dust is something too?)
I don't want to talk to you. (Oh, you sound so strange...)
Sorry if I sounded strange.

You crushed the hereafter with the murderous carcass
Of the fortune provided by Astaroth.
(I don't want to talk to you.)
Oh, the bread had turned green and the milk had gone sour,
So we ate of the words that said knowledge was power
(I have a secret.)
When you slept outside until four o' clock.

(Timed right to the hour...)
I'm absolutely sure of what you're speaking this to
And where you lie about things going from here.
Change breaks all things, save the fact that things change.
Oh delicate girl, can't you see that you're strange?
I'm absolutely sure of what words can do.
Hope you don't mind my asking what's up with you.
I wrote a letter to show that dust is something too.
Sorry if I sound a bit strange.
Strange.

You'll find that the best always comes at the end
When everything ends in an unending way.
A mouthful of words anodizes the irony
That I hoped there was life left here anyway.

When you can't afford gas and you can't afford nicotine,
You'd best get addicted to something less valuable.
And it seems that you have, and I smile discontentedly,
For the things that you left have befriended me.
(Put these words out of their misery...sorry if I sound a bit strange.)
I guess I'm like you. How strange.

Ryan Gaston
August 13, 2008