1. |
Fog (are you fereal_)
02:05
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Are you for real, or are you fraught
with that wicked cool, that deceiving glint?
Getting fried all the time is just a cover
for your true insatiability. Poorly-patterned pleas for help
make it seem like the the siren is just a front.
Like the lighthouse is manned by someone
who can't see past his own fog.
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2. |
The Cemetery
03:26
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Hey Ricky! Hey, Ryan Halstead!
Oh yea, one of these days guys -
it won't be one of those days!
Yea, we'll get to hang out
with some really cool, underground people.
Oh yea, Julia and Charles. Suggs'll be there too man.
Jeffe Hanneman. Muammar Qaddafi. Well, I guess
he wasn't so cool.
Yea, we'll get to hang out with our brand new friends.
Roll up a doob or two.
Watch the grass over stones.
We're just staring at all the people,
as they stare right back at us, yes.
(Mystery lyrics: please submit your best guesses to @normads #thecemetary for a chance to win a Normads key chain)
Where is the rest of it? Is it under your clothes, under your hair, or behind your eyes?
It's so quiet and clear.
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3. |
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"I met a guy tonight," I said -
he said, "givin' up 'aint what I recommend."
And, "Freedom 'aint the kinda thing you leave round here."
It's a rotten town, filled with the worst
people, places, and things
(are how you remember your nouns).
He's the unseen guest.
The potatoes are mashed, the salad fresh.
Plenty o' vino, and don't you worry
your pretty face - it's just transubstantiated.
Permanent fade,
The judgement of your friends.
Heavy as the stare of strangers.
Unapproachable, irredeemably far.
In the Arctic, should I wear a two-piece,
or three?
Livin' a modest life. Unlearn the yearn
for things,
and people,
and rules,
and the voices,
and music,
and Miami,
and you.
Fuck it. Yea, I don't need anything from you man.
I'm livin' a modest life, get out of my head bro.
I got platinum on my wrist, and Ryan
killin it on the bass, Ricky on the drums
bustin' out the beats. I got everything you need baby,
right here.
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4. |
Homage to Fromage
04:05
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I've got a wonderful spread,
cheese and berries and bread.
The sun is high in the sky
and glittery gold just like your dress.
I wanna feel you
breathin' on down my neck.
I just hate myself,
doin' it so that you don't have to.
I long for your skin,
you got me on my knees.
"Cheese", you make me wanna kill myself
someday soon but not today.
Why are we so foreign to each other,
is it enough to be fiending for each other?
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5. |
Don't Bother
04:50
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So uh,
don't bother with the right directions,
I'll just have to eat my lesson.
Being me is no reprieve
from the shittiness of everyone.
Smokin' again, thinnin' patience.
Oh yea, I'll stop.
Oh yea I'll run, till I gotta crawl.
Don't know what keeps me from coming apart.
You're out there by the door,
waiting for the thud.
What you want, I don't know,
maybe just a friend? But I doubt it,
you're just too excited.
Paranoia pumps the thickest blood.
Oh, does it hurt always bein' wrong?
You've got me runnin' around.
You've got me running' out of time.
So you'd rather have a good time than a bad one?
I'm amazed by your perspicacity,
and the drugs and the attitude.
Sometimes you just gotta be cool.
So uh,
don't bother with the right directions,
I'll just have to eat my lesson.
Being me is no reprieve
from the shittiness of everyone.
Drinkin' again, thinnin' patience.
Oh yea, I'll start.
Oh yea I'll run, through the thickest forest.
What keeps me from coming apart?
You've got me runnin' around.
You've got me running' out of time man,
you gonna bust out the groove or what dude?
So you'd rather have a good time than a bad one?
I'm amazed by your perspicacity,
and the drugs and the attitude.
Sometimes you just gotta be cool.
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6. |
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Tom Anderson Miami Beach, Florida
an archive of home recordings made by friends who shared music through cdrs and myspace.
2006-2017
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