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Sidewalks Narrow

by Too Many Talk Shows

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1.
cul-de-sac 04:11
We covered miles Spinning circles around In a cul-de-sac This place is a fishbowl You called it a shithole, my god, C’mon man relax Whitney says you’re not coming home At all this winter break Guess you’d rather be alone And study your own ache Well man that’s great You relocate, and become the snob you hate Or just used to hate Whitney says, I’m not fair, There’s a fracture, there’s a tear, When you vacillate And yeah I didn’t see ya, man I didn’t see ya At church that day Nah man, don’t let them leech ya, nah man, Don’t let them leech you, all the same Don’t leech, don’t change... when god’s out of reach, and it’s all turned strange Don’t leech, don’t change... (Interlude when drums come in) From your dad’s garage Some kenotic force And suddenly christ felt like a ghost On your mother’s porch Some cervine grace On 144 And suddenly your sense of faith flopped dead on the floor Who let it in? I don’t know If it chokes or if it undoes the choke But I feel so stuck In that summer night Whitney sighed I’m not feeling so high anymore
2.
saints 05:15
Yesterday, said you’d sewn your own head Straight into crimson carpets again, I sprint in, find your bottles and pens, leaking Then you said your apartment’s flooded With licorice vines and undone spools of thread I give in and walk two steps back in, reel me Chorus: When the saints leave on holiday, Your last haunting will stay Anthony found all your precious things, How the hell have you no thanks to say? Then you said all the angels have left, After all, goodness is just weakness, I (just) grinned but felt something wicked, creep in It gets late, and you slip out of sense, Tired of all my own sacraments, what’s this? I’m not any more wanted than them, one trick Chorus: When the saints leave on holiday, Your last haunting will stay Don’t ask me, where’d you go with your wings? I have clipped them and thrown them away Whatever haunts you now is gonna find you out, Ay, how, wicked things come your way Whatever haunts you now is gonna sniff you out, Somehow, you’re one and the same
3.
percy 05:03
Crying in an idle car Sitting in a parking lot Percy’s all gone Time rewinds the tape But you and me don’t buy fate Long lost brother Why would I let you in? I wanted to let you in I stopped hanging around In twenty years you finally found Boyish anger And home in a frat house You found a home in a frat Didn’t stop at that, you jabbed, I cracked, You laughed, I snapped, I quit, that’s it, And from the sidelines you faked a grin, Oh, why would I let you win? ‘Cause you yank the ladder You break the mirror You pull on my string You tear the sutre Drown any future No faith in anything You yank the ladder You break the mirror You pull on my string Brother listen Bone to bone, your grip Painted on my wrist Your tale’s overtold Boarding school will freeze you cold That’s all fiction That’s all fiction, that’s all fiction But your mom wasn’t there Your dad didn’t care Shipped you in a box to who knows where I knew who you were, (but) not who you’d been I wanted to let him in, but Cause you yank the ladder You break the mirror You pull on my string You tear the sutre Drown any future No faith in anything You yank the ladder You break the mirror You pull on my string Brotherless Bone to bone, your grip Slipping off my wrist When will you pay? When will you pay? Pay for what you’ve done? The swallowed pride, the spits in the eye, The pain you blame it on When will you pay? When will you pay? When the reapers find your hide I won’t fight, I won’t fight, fight on your side (2x)
4.
The earth it spins but I don’t feel it The earth it flies around the sun The earth it spins but we don’t feel it Not you not them not anyone Microscopic human mess Buzz and beep and ping and stress Sunday feigns the day of rest, but there’s Rocks in my socks! knots in my chest! Cable news says it gets worse, This golden age is an ancient curse, even If on sunday I skip church Still on Monday I gotta go to work Sunday’s a sinking ship x3 Monday tuesday i feel like shit All this worry’s got to end Satelites swingin round the bend Planet’s red with pundit grins How much must I beg...but now there’s Too many talk shows, too many hosts Eight slick suits spit the same eight jokes more rocks in my socks! now stones in my throat! red lights flash don’t choke don’t choke I wanna go back, back, back inside the house I go back, back back back inside the house But now I feel bad, bad, what else can I say But now I feel badbadbad but I got work on monday Sunday’s a sinking ship x3 Monday tuesday i feel like shit All this worry’s got to end Satelites swingin round the bend Planet’s red with pundit grins How much must I beg...I wanna go back... Back, back inside the house I go back, back back back inside the house But now I feel bad, bad, what else can I say But now I feel badbadbad but I got work on monday
5.
Trying just to lay low, keep the curtains closed I am not one of those out my window ...what do they say? Every word is just chopped up Every word is blue and grey I lost my love in the crowd watching Modern Baseball Lost all my sight to the flashing red and purple lights I lost my love in a basement stuffed and flooded with Cluttered beings, and I’m finally... Tangled up but flailing, exploding but contained Chemicals reacting...the feeling’s good but strange ...does this count as dancing?? Am I on parade? Every cell is screaming, every cell afraid I lost my love in the crowd watching Modern Baseball Lost all my sight to the flashing red and purple lights I lost my love in a basement stuffed and flooded with Cluttered beings, and I’m finally... one of them I lost my love in the crowd watching Modern Baseball Lost all my sight to the flashing red and purple lights I lost my love in a basement stuffed and flooded (with) Cluttered beings, and I’m finally... one of them

credits

released October 15, 2018

all songs written by rj tischler, jake elich, and pablo sasso
produced by luke willis
mixed by luke willis

1000x thanks to jeff alex thomas for audio consulting, photography, and just generally being a cool dude

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Too Many Talk Shows Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

three random cannolis decided to start a band

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