1. |
Cool Hand Chuck
02:12
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drop the songs about misanthropy. save the lines about losing sleep
if the world isn’t your oyster then chuck it back into the sea
control your fear of no control and the tongue attached to your hips
smile enjoy your shitty records and barely making rent
oh the reviews? the words I felt drive through my wrists,
by the time my blood hit the soil, I was hating it
hating it instead of hating you, but now I don’t care either way
it and me and the guys in the photo are all the same
alright all you hip bastards,
we’re gonna have some fun spite all that self-loathing shit
intent is key, intent is key, your attitude is the lock,
turn that shit, turn that shit till one breaks
intent is key, intent is key, your attitude is the lock,
turn that shit, turn that shit till one breaks
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2. |
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you can’t blame the boring, the neurotic know
every kid has secrets they never let go
burn the evenings I write till seven am
no more inking linden street
no more looking for a father unloading his gun
a childhood undone, not covered up
but we’re all looking, the world can’t stop looking
you can’t blame the vipers of the southern states
the patchwork sermons misquoting verses
the alter call zoo’s, adult america shaking with hell fire and fear
no more looking for a maker who doesn’t take your friends
a gospel of moments, not an end
but we’re all looking, the world can’t stop looking
I’m desperate to believe but I don’t shit where I eat
when I don’t know, I don’t know
I’m too old to pretend and to unsure to descend
I’m desperate to believe but I don’t shit where I eat
when I don’t know, I don’t know
I’m too old to pretend and to unsure to descend
did we learn to think or did we learn to believe
let’s be the ones who are served, not the ones who serve
the landlord of the afterlife can’t evict us from death
the neon and the garbage go to heaven to die
and that’s why I’d rather die alone in the night
I’m desperate to believe but I don’t shit where I eat
when I don’t know, I don’t know
I’m too old to pretend and to unsure to descend
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3. |
Gutter Kid Traffik
02:33
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couldn’t get a cab on st. charles street, I was just another bum
no one back home would accept my collect calls
two days at a bus station in Birmingham
finally got home and sobered up
the friends I had weren’t friends at all
one more satori linked to new orleans
all’s over, I feel fine
all’s over, what’s to miss?
Slept on a bench in Audobon Park, 50 days of drinking and slinging art
done a lot that I’m not proud of
to quote Mr. Waits, “you’re innocent when you dream”
and I’m innocent when I dream
on the nights it would rain, I’d run to Oak Street
sleep as long as third shift could let me
street mantras from winos, played for change
chased dharma bums, found out I was the same
all’s over
Slept on a bench in Audobon Park, 50 days of drinking and slinging art
done a lot that I’m not proud of
to quote Mr. Waits, “you’re innocent when you dream”
and I’m innocent when I dream
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4. |
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cold van vs. rollins, keep our hearts lit
cause candle to the sun, which one won?
like a band of guthries we work, we write and roam
from the honest side of the fence and matchbook homes
the conquests of the useless can’t buy us a witness
so vagabonds we become to glorify the distance
between the roots we forgot beyond the limbs that brace the sky
we piss thanks in the snow to pass along the light
five years in a row, we got the shit end of the stick
no sense of relief to mark off the list
our lives are the toll roads in jersey and east of chicago
the industrial tar pit of assholes
but I love it
if I could take a Polaroid of when I was at my lowest point
maybe I could kick the habit, straighten up, drop the bitch
but I was born to bleed, born to be hated, born to lead
all the rats and children to the river where they can drown with me
worrisome me, don’t drown me out, the guilt is killing my mood
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5. |
Pall Malls
04:47
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I was widowed from the love of my life
disconnected my umbilical, bills and time
melted that candle, behind my mask, my eyes
till the wick was gone and wax had dried
but I woke again
it’s fucked, it took the death of a friend
now he keeps me burning, a slow denial of what’s given
I want to sit at his grave, say, “we’ve got plans!”
we’ll all burn forever or till we can see him again
a seam between the lost and the beautiful
he was American muscle, my god, my friend
my kid brother, not someone I met
we’ll all bloom forever, no sleep, no rest
we sat and drank coffee
some of us smoked pall malls
told stories of his youth and brilliance
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6. |
Shithead Prose
03:05
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all the saint’s in the cellars hiding beneath the art they made
who’s to say a miracle can be measured visually
I’m over my indifference cause it doesn’t fit
art is hell and I’m not the poster boy for it
who’s to blame, I guess it’s me
felt like shit when I got the call
who’s to blame, I guess it’s me
ruth, I’m sorry, I gave up because I was weak
you taught me better, that will endure
all the things you lived for through me
fold me out on the bed I made
I disrespected myself and from where I came
double stitched my problems to every spot I lay my head
till there was no room left for me in my bed
hiding out or hiding in
Losing time or cutting risks
Spacing out or disconnecting or spitting shithead prose in the wind?
Ruth, I’m sorry, I gave up because I was weak
you taught me better, that will endure
all the things you lived for
through me
shithead prose for a human dynamo
how can something so ugly give the world some thing beautiful
I pass my time with the simple wonders of day to day
I’m not sure there is another way
but I do try when I think of who’s given me
the opportunities I passed on to find myself
and where am I after years of searching
still 12 years old at 24
I’m still 12 years old at 24
I’m still 12 years old at 24
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7. |
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Dieu est mort pour moi et chaque femme que j’ai jamais touché
if it burns, hold it under till it drowns
no flame burns on half the wick, love doesn’t come around
it’s inherent and constant like warmth from the sun
it lasts as long as there’s a breathe in our chest, until we’re done
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8. |
Dieu Est Mort Pour Moi
03:25
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jesus hates me? church signs save me?
I’m a faggot sinner in a westboro baptist world?
so where do I go? Where do I go?
I’m distinctly southern but that religion’s not for me
to hell or heaven with me and my soulless friends
heaven sounds boring and if there is a hell, I’m not invited
I would never be a part of a club that would have me as a member
who am I to deserve an oblivion of any treatment?
I’m not good, I’m not bad, I want to die with a smile and still care
why do the tesla’s, the kerouac’s, and the tender hearts
feel the choke of god’s love?
your god is not enough, I need someone real for compassion and love
an empty bed is an empty soul says the fruit of a seedless philosophy
I’m fucking tired of screaming in a pillow, what do they see?
life and the existence there after
there’s got to be a point outside the hate I see in you
what about progress is a threat?
all the biggest questions can’t be answered between the covers of one book
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9. |
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fuck myself, nothing’s heavier than what I let it be
so I gun down the moon and a bottle of wine, howl at my grief
my advice: stay unmoved, never chain your wolves to one girl
when the end comes, it’s just you and your friends vs. the world
the clouds in my chest have shit the bed
when I smell Mexican beer, I think of my ex
and when I write long winded letters to my dad
I think of my childhood and parenthood through a pen
hey, hey, hey, why do I feel so lucky?
hey, hey, hey, I hear a calling for the road
hey, hey, hey, simple me says nothin’
hey, hey, hey, I care too much to be alone
the call we hear is too soft for the mouth, but not too soft for the ears
Bloom with the brutes, chief away, Toulouse, chief away, Toulouse
through this I choose to be the hands that loosen the noose
all love and art turns, so turn or be turned
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10. |
Youth Crew Blues
05:56
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spade the kids too heavy to dream
they barely sleep, they barely speak
they say, "something good seldom happens"
so they bore their friends, they bore themselves
ostracize their entire lives to deaden all it's wonders
then what do they have besides the cool blue nothing
jazz cigarettes and jaded ears but who's to say either can get you laid
don't struggle with yourself, thinking what's the inside on the outs
I say hey man fuck it, if you want sex that bad, pay for it
I dove and stayed dry
stained the pool with what was on my mind
blaming is believing I think
so I gave up swearing at the clouds for a couple of weeks
so what, we've got a million reasons
so what, we've got an infinite amount of reasons
so what, we've got a million reasons
so what, I can't hear happiness anymore
youth crew blues, I'm singing to you
no excuse will do, you've got to stay positive
youth crew blues, I'm singing to you
no excuse will do, you've got to stay positive
tell me why I feel the need to be a dick to all my friends
when I think about the past and the shitty things that happened
and why I worry and I think everyone's out to shit on me,
I just want a healthy relationship with one fucking human being
tell me, tell me why? do you have an answer?
tell me, tell me why? do you have an answer?
oh no?
youth crew blues, I'm singing to you
no excuse will do, you've got to stay positive
youth crew blues, I'm singing to you
no excuse will do, you've got to stay positive
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11. |
Author of Everything
04:37
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sleep tonight, tomorrow we take on the sun and all the unpleasantries it’s given us
“do you have soul? It all depends…”
memories and shadows are the only things that haven’t left
So where do I stand?
So where do I sleep?
If I invest myself would it be worth the energy
I fight harder than atlas to lift my debt
are we in line or out of line or drawing the line?
I don’t think it matters to anyone but the ones trying to conquer their lives
be the change you want to see, not the change you see
when the world won’t bend follow it’s curve till you find me
be the change you want to see, not the change you see
when the world won’t bend follow it’s curve till you find me
the author of everything’s only on the second draft so sleep tonight
the author of everything’s only on the second draft so sleep tonight
god, don’t hurt me, don’t break me, don’t make an example of me
god, if you’re listening, I’ll pen the rest
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TS/AL collective Alabama
We're a collective that releases stuff from mostly alabama artists.
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