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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of All Substance, No Style, Stuck in 2005, Honor, and Handshoes & Horse Grenades.
1. |
Provo Tango
03:02
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I don't wanna be your boyfriend
I just wanna be the guy that you make out with on the weekend
We can pretend that every Provo Tango will be our last
And this kidney stone romance hurts less when it's passed
You are pushing me like I had a limit
As we play this game of physical chicken.
It's been 20 minutes since we met eyes
And we're still locked.
I'm skinny dipping in your Caribbean irides,
We talk about French films and favorite b-sides,
And make out at the pool until 4am.
We'll crush all this romantic shit.
There's a fine line between depraved and deprived
And the moans you make along it seem so dreadfully contrived
So used you inspired a chorus that rips straight from Sloppy Seconds
You only use the feminist vehicle to drive your way through a tough belt buckle
You Mountain West girls are all the same
No matter how dumb you spell your name
You make me so angry that I drop my pick...
So, pass me the butter, baby.
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2. |
My Uniform
03:12
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Can you hear my voice?
I can barely speak.
Can you smell my fear?
I’m shaking at the knees
Did you fire the shot
That pierced through my chest?
Would you take the next one
If there’s any left?
A cut from the cloth
Lay it over me.
Can you see my hands?
Blistered from the street
Can you see my badge?
The heart that pounds beneath
Another fallen martyr
Painted as a thug;
Another buried father
Supposed a crooked cop.
Oh baby, don’t I look good
In my uniform?
Leave me no choice to choose
So, beat me black and blue
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3. |
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The blue screen illuminates the room
Its pulsing beams condensate on filthy paper walls
My defeated hands quake
On thin sheets in summer’s crushing heat
A deep love digresses to a heavier season
Our marrows melt, mix, and mend.
With your ear to the floor, I can see how poor
The state of the tiles, chipped, stained, and uneven
Two lovers wound together with strings
Sever old, and tie anew
A delicate mess we cherish.
It was you who hung us out
Examples beneath the olive
It was you who pronounced us dead.
Guilt is a poison, it weakens our will
We cut, we bleed, we scab, we heal
And pray we don’t cut again.
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4. |
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Bottle after bottle in all types of colors
Lost all of my consideration for others
I came to that fire as a man straight from the 'pan
To join the 27 Club as fast as I can
Oh, it's like they say
"All men die at 25."
I’m on my way to punk rock heaven
So you can bury me at 27
Mama wants to know my plan, daddy wants to get my head checked
I sleep with my belly down in case I taste rejection.
Friends spread thin and my foes just wax aplenty
They're just gonna bleed me dry, drain me til I’m empty.
What would you say to punk rock heaven?
"Just fucking bury me at 27."
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5. |
Honor
01:20
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You’ve put a Y on top of the molehill
Like an eye watching over the people
A prowling circling despot
Disguised as a friendly mascot
Yet, you say, “It’s all about agency.”
Cheap tuition comes at the cost of
A religious, political dogma
Forced down the throat a vision
A McCarthyist tradition
The money saved does not make that right
Roll with the punches
Kick against the pricks
Expectant mothers on the street cast from the synagogue
Jobless fathers on their knees, repentance cumbersome
Your laws make lifelong rats, you godless bureaucrats
I hope you know that’s all on you
Where is the Honor in that?
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6. |
Stuck in 2005
03:28
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The "0" at the turn of the millennium
I can see now stood for "obsolete."
So Cal high schools
Just don't matter like they did in single digits
When Josh Schwartz was still on the west coast
And the quiet thing that no one ever knew
Was that old proverbial question:
"Summer or Marissa?"
That shade from under the cork tree made it all seem just so damn cool
But like the sun that never shines the PA sky, reality can be cruel.
I wish it could feel the way
Like it did back in the day
I wish I could feel alive.
Like I did in 2005.
I miss the girls in torn jeans and chokers,
And boys in Atticus tees and pooka shells,
When being "scene" could be a guilty pleasure,
Whatever the hell that means.
My 13 Going on 30 DVD glitched frozen in rewind.
7 Minutes counting down, dated every line.
Nostalgia doesn't die, don't even bother.
I just know it will ride that old treadmill
Right back where you got on it.
A memory happy, a future still crappy.
I wish it could find me a job.
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7. |
See You Around
03:57
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A winter in exile, a ship wrecked in Utah.
The snowiest one that we've seen in a decade.
And out of the wreckage we all got away
From this college town
Wishing one day that we could say...
Don't write me off
Don't kiss me goodbye.
I'll watch you disappear
Believing somehow
I will see you around.
A summer spent sweating it over the Rad Shack.
Pick up a camera and hunt with the hounds
Pass that old microscope we’ve been hiding under
For one more round.
Just one more round.
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8. |
OwnDamnSelf
02:11
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This never-ending cycle of outrage
When will it cease to revolve?
The steam from my boiling blood keeps on rising
'Till no one can see for the fog
It’s just the law of entropy
Burning up my own misanthropy
One by one, we point our pitchforks up and forth
Why do we keep on returning
Like dogs to their vomit
We’re killing our owndamnselves
It’s either us or it’s them
Why don’t you think for yourself
Kill, kill, kill your owndamnself!
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9. |
Better Problems
02:25
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Another night’s sleep wasted writing teensploitation spec scripts
Getting tongue tied on marijuana
I should shave but I like the way I shook like lit
My mord’s get wixed, but at least the gutter’s stone away
Isn’t it about time that I stop making memes, and start making friends
Not the ones on Reddit, but the ones you go get sunburns with?
I’d rather spend the day instead, making clever excuses in my head
Ironic self-deprecation amusing to no one but anyone.
Sick of playing solitaire
Without a single care to spare.
Over-thinking whether self-awareness
Undoes my crimes and all unfairness,
Can I just get…
A little less time alone
Somewhere else
Dealing with better problems.
40 torrents later, I’ve got more music than I could even list
Complete discographies of Bee Gees, Cannibal Corpse, and Taylor Swift
Slowly soar the vacancies of white sheets stained with bacon grease
I should quit this band and go back to church, but watch me do nothing about it.
Sick of watching Ethan Klein
Gettin’ old and doin’ fine.
No more buying lube in bulk and
No more McCaulay Culkin
Why can’t I take...
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10. |
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Another zealot comes to lead a nation
But it's not like we haven't seen this before.
America's the same shithole it's always been.
Take your flag, turn it upside down
Rend your cloth from your back
Write your bill of rights
Defend it with your life
Taxation is theft, it’s no damn joke
Beat that stallion ‘til it’s broke.
Someone wrote it in ‘76, it must be called of God.
We’re just waiting for a Lee Harvey Oswald
Take a shot!
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11. |
転びもの
03:36
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They asked me to smile, and they punched my teeth out
A liar’s knife in my spine.
“Spit out your tongue, plugging your throat.”
Teeth marks and all, “Ugly and quiet forever.”
白雪しか
見えぬ道こそ
過ちぞ
我らの皆が
すぐに死ぬらむ
A thousand travelers in search of solace
From self and surroundings
Are silenced instead
Despite all their debts
Despite all their failures
Followed with faith in bloody footprints
Put your shoulder to the wagon
Put your shoulder to the organization
Put your shoulder in, push away,
Or be crushed beneath the wheel.
The light on the hill
It crackles and hums
A thousand flies dead inside
Eyes wide open, mind glued shut
My ears bleed
Grey stains in the pews.
Wolves in sheep's clothing
Sheep in a business suit.
Kill them off faster than you can recruit
Open a factory
Enlarge a phylactery.
Use big words, keep them humble
You’re just roadkill
A lump of flesh still feeling
転びもの、いざ進め
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12. |
d00meD2Succ33d
03:26
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All the fools who dared to dream
Were doomed to succeed!
I wish I was dealt a better hand
I wish I sang in a better band
Give it all you got
Take what you can
So sick of waiting for an opportunity
The ones who seem to have it all
Seem to want it least of all
Love the money, hate the job
No glass floors when you're on the top
So, somewhere, you just lose all your perspective.
All us fools who dare to dream,
We’re doomed to suck.
I'm not a sell out, baby,
But I am a capitalist,
Just a slave to my student loan;
What's principle ever done for me?
Go ahead and take my body.
I never had a soul to start.
But write that check to cash
Before you pick my bones apart.
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