Saturday, October 29, 2005

detox/retox

I always get really down on the days after shows. Something about the confluence of a week of stress leading up to the show, the emotional toll of reciting lyrics that despite their grounding in nonsensical blabberings are actually, cryptically, often quite meaningful to me, and the physical toll of performance always renders me perfectly useless the next day. To wit:

1. Today I woke up at 10.
2. Instead of finishing editing essays for the application essay company I moonlight with, I emailed my boss and took myself off the the project. To be perfectly honest, I should have done it a long time ago, but tried to power through it plus the workweek plus band stuff.
3. Instead of working on tracks for the solo album I wrote three random verses to Kanye's "Golddigger" that I will probably never want to recite to any track but "Golddigger," and any track I make would sound like a "Golddigger" rip-off, so they're completely useless. Good, but useless.
4. Made an oven pizza at 11 am.
5. Did not go to the gym,
6. Nor shower.

On the bright side, 18 days without coffee and substances. Being not jacked up on caffeine is starting to feel like my regular state of being.

But I could use a beer or eight right now.

This entry ceased to be entertaining a long time ago.

Monday, October 10, 2005

New Song - Going To I'm Going To

I like posting lyrics on this thing every once in a while.

Ricky wrote a sick keyboard line a few weeks ago and I have been trying to mold it into a song ever since. I think I got it. Three sort of altered choruses, three well-crafted verses. Now all Rick and I have to do is sell it to the band. Should be like passing pork in Congress.

I'm immensely proud of these lyrics. Lots of fun wordplay within a semi-serious topic. Look for baseball references; sports cliches; names of indie bands next to slightly altered names of bon jovi b-side singles; children's story references; some good religious imagery; political stuff; mike tyson's punch-out references; some halfway decent internal rhyming; some actual words that other people use in rap songs; and whatever else you can find.

These verses are all 16's with a half-line tagged to the top. So if you're at home trying to figure out how the hell they're recited, which might prove somewhat difficult, at least give yourself a shot by starting on 1 with the second line of each verse.

This song is going to kill.

paz.
abe

p.s. The chorus is to be sung, in three part harmony, poorly by me, competently by Evan and Rick.



I don’t know where
I don’t know where
I don’t know the place I’m going
To and I am going to explode if I don’t get to where I’m
Going I don’t know where I am
Going to I’m going to I’m going to my destination

- - - - ready set swing miss!
abraham keep your weight on your back foot
jump at the offspeed pitch and go ka-put
mighty casey up with the game on the line
at the bat, at the last inning of time
you could be, willing of mind
but your spirit is soft
or have the, shot in your sights
but your sights were off
a millimeter to spare and it's a game of inches
from, starting at fullback to riding the benches
riding the fences, siding with henchmen not leaders
shirtless and drunk, picking fights in the bleachers
99 degrees in the shade hot hot heat
bitching bout the rich folks and how they got box seats
knock kneed with a pigeon toe to boot
some people play the field, some belong in the booth
nobody wants the truth, it gets so absurd
talking bout "man i would have gone pro for sure"

You don’t know where
you don’t know where
you don’t know where I am going
to and I am never gonna tell you where I’m going to
end up I might end up nowhere
nowhere can be somewhere and that somewhere is a destination

he’s a fraud in those emperor’s
clothes so I choose to expose his ruse
in a four chord blues cause his flows are used
do you, quote the news or do you know your views
you could turn on the light or simply blow the fuse
abused in the back, man his soul is bruised
what's the world come to man i'm so confused
and you could roll on dubs or just roll them twos
snakes eyes, any way you roll you lose
put your finger on the trigger man and squeeze it twice
or take it on the chin in memory of Jesus Christ
you could read your rights, and dot your i's and t's
on the cross in the breeze with condoleeza rice
you can go out like a martyr be on top of the world
or you can try a little harder make your world understand
I might stumble to the finish but at least I saw the clock when it
Struck my time to shine and now we just

I don’t care where
I don’t care where
I don’t care where I am going
To as long as you are going to be there to hold my hand
No fuck it I can do it on my own if you don’t want to come
I’ll go alone you’re always welcome but I need to go right now

get em up now
wave your hands if you just don’t give a fuck
pot smoking ideologue he’s a sitting duck
yin to the yang man we all need the villain’s touch
safety off hair trigger, keeping all real and such
smoke a dutch smoke a parliament smoke congress
smoke constituencies up in smoke promise
pull a rabbit out of the hat it’s an illusion
smoke screen vote green add to confusion
separate the light from the top of the headpiece
you can, get on the bus, man, it’s practically empty
ride it to the front or do your time as a sentry
drive your daughter to the prom in a dress too skimpy
too limp to stand with a cracked backbone
too far removed to take a cab back home
take out another loan and never press select
when an uppercut would snap his neck

I don’t care where
I don’t care where
I don’t care where I am going

Monday, October 03, 2005

Buy our shirts, bitches!

Indef-Art shirts now available. White with black printing. Logo tees. Nice looking. Classy. Available in S, M, L, XL.

Navigate to our myspace page to buy one of those badboys. They are so much the beautiful!

done
f.a.