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. |
sunday's a sinking ship
03:57
|
|||
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. |
modern baseball
03:47
|
|||
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
|
Too Many Talk Shows Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
three random cannolis decided to start a band
Streaming and Download help
Too Many Talk Shows recommends:
If you like Too Many Talk Shows, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp