1. |
What'll Go First?
02:30
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What'll go first?
My stomach, or my soul?
I'd rather lose the former
You can't live on bananas and coffee
What'll go first?
My lovers or my friends?
I'd rather lose the former
We love to love because we love to watch it end.
Ah, to feel a little too much,
Ah, to go a little too far with your gut.
What'll go first?
My brain, or my writing?
I'd rather lose the former,
My writing is already nuts.
What'll go first?
My money, or my music?
I'd rather lose the former,
You can't get rich off of honest fun,
Ah, to live a little too much
Ah, they can't stand when you live grand in squalor
Ah, to feel a little too much
Ah, to go a little too far with your gut,
Lovely Fevers,
Drown the Over Achiever,
Lovely Fevers.
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2. |
Half-Deserving
02:25
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Half-Deserving of a handshake for the things I've done
lost in an alleyway, this way or that-a-way
and pushing away the thoughts until they're sexy
and swim better for me, and swim better for me...
And feeling the streets in my worn down cleats
creaking rubbery, weaklings on my feet,
seeking asylum: ambrosia and jager-bombs
hardly enough for me, thirsty for apathy
And we sang for you
All you'd ever do is sigh, sigh
I don't know why you'd ever wanna sleep...
And here we are!
A flash in the pan, hold the applause!
Swimming underneath it all,
popping each bubble right out the mouth,
singing in a puddle all about the rain,
wondering if a heart attack can drive you insane
or if its the cars with the lights how can you see the road?
hardly any reason to know where you're going,
singing over radio nonsense stereo
alcoholic radio watch the road watch the road
Part of me wants to party
by myself,
part of me knows
I just wanna get laid.
Kicking dust
never really makes up.
The bed, the head,
the mind still unmade.
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3. |
My Big Swing Frown
02:22
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I fling down
my Big Swing Frown
I sing songs
and I dress like a clown
Take me down
my mood is brown
hang me by my throat
in the center of your town
I never saw the speeding screaming rift
of the moving street's headlight abyss
fragrance of cat piss, dying wits
in the heads of torn up hurricane head season
what's the reason for the synchronizing glance
of the dead soul's eyes while you advance
through our city's valley roads
and potholes in the sidewalk
bumper belch while rubber is felt
in my head while it melts in the streets
hopeless tire spinning while heat screams
no control so familiar it seems
beams of sun curse at the one
who holds her egg with cement shackles
man screams terror, freedom police tackle,
shatters his jaw on the sidewalk, cackles
blood running through his teeth.
and I fling down
my Big Swing Frown
all dressed up
like some decadent despondent clown
my dismay
on display
my eyes look
far away
a rope hangs
loosely
and suddenly
becomes straight.
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4. |
Dope
03:40
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Okay, I'm awake
but I should be fast asleep,
you called me a narc when I tried to head home.
Someday I'll be sure
that we'll be more classy
these run-down jobs they treat us wrong.
And the dope don't make me better,
and the dope don't make me sane,
but we can talk forever,
as the world melts into rain.
Okay, I'm alright
just taking my damn time.
You call me a mess, I say I'm a little abstract.
Let's head down the road
I've got my old flip flops
You say they're falling apart, I say so are you.
And the dope don't make me better,
and the dope don't make me sane,
but we can talk forever,
as the world melts into rain.
And I'm okay
think I need a break,
but I'm having fun,
least I had fun,
that's more that I could say than anyone.
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5. |
Ballad of Big Mike
03:28
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A bed's a thing
for the man in the house
so a hammock would have to do
And standing in the July heat
the bus went right through you
like you were some kinda ghost
or some holy spirit man I wouldn't know
Who was your friend?
When you were standing all alone on the freeway?
Glass neck in hand, who was your friend, standing on the freeway?
Couldn't be me, just a kid,
a kid you never really knew,
but a kid who claims alone that they heard you.
I saw a light howl in the dark,
I saw blazing eyes on the boardwalk,
I saw the only man left in Asbury Park.
A stranger paid your debts,
with a bullet through your crucifix.
Who was your friend?
When you were standing all alone on the freeway?
Glass neck in hand, who was your friend, standing on the freeway?
Lovely Fever,
the Great Deceiver,
Lovely Fever,
the Great Deceiver.
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Denosoar Boston, Massachusetts
Rock, pop, folk fuckery. Homemade tunes. A band made up of me and my guitar player Gean, plus friends, freaks, cartoons, dopes, etc... Rum Guy, Sap, Big Cig, Queen Socrates, Chill Bill, No One, Jimi Miami, Denosoar.
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