1. |
||||
|
April '07, Ohio
Three days in. only a week to go
Searching for a meaning
As to why you left Cleveland
When you ditched us, then you
Hopped a bus & headed for home
Keep it bottled up
It will make you go nuts
Cigarette pint of stout
Drink it in smoke it out
Don't give up on your vision
For one thats impaired
When the world's got you down
Take a breath of fresh air
I've got no bad intentions
And I've got no remorse
Something burns deep within me
And that's my driving force
When you look back on this day
And you ask yourself "Why?"
You'll still be here tomorrow
Don't forget that you're alive
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
Another sentimental argument and bitter love
Fucked without a kiss again dragged it through the mud
Yelling at brick walls and punching windows made of stone
The worry rock has turned to dust fallen on our pride
A knocked down dragged out fight
Fat lips and open wounds
Another wasted night and no one will take the fall
Where do we go from here
And what did you do with the directions
Promise me no dead end streets
And I'll guarantee we'll have the road
A knocked down dragged out fight
Fat lips and open wounds
Another wasted night no one will take the fall
Another sentimental argument and bitter love
Fucked without a kiss again dragged it through the mud
Where do we go from here
And what did you do with the directions
Promise me no dead end streets
And I'll guarantee we'll have the road
And I'll guarantee we'll have the road
And I'll guarantee we'll have the road
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
I. DRANK MYSELF TO DEATH
We got a bottle of Jim Beam and I drank a liter.
To distract me from my constant overthinking I need a breather.
You built this up your head. The pressure.
Relax, don't think too much 'cause you can't take this.
Well, I relaxed with liquor.
The pressure has gone away, but baby, I can't see shit.
It's not the same to me when falling on my face.
I finally drank myself to death.
Enter the shaking, maaan, I shoulda eaten something. Enter the crying.
"My life is useless and I won't amount to nothing." Better start dying.
You built this up your head. The pressure.
Relax, don't think too much 'cause you can't take this.
Well, I relaxed with liquor.
The pressure has gone away, but baby, I can't see shit.
It's not the same to me when falling on my face.
Wrap me up in sheets, there's nothing left to see her.
I should be old enough to know (better better)
and I SHOULD be young enough to not take everything so seriously
SHOULD be smart enough to know that doing this is dangerous
this mixing anxious energy with drunk ferocious carelessness.
I finally drank myself to death.
It's turned to laughs.
I'm turning red outside on Cedar St.
It's twenty-two degrees.
I'm screaming "M-I-N-N-E-A-P-O-L-I-S CAN KISS MY ASS IN HELL"
I've built you up in my head and now you've started a war in my head.
II. TRUE 'TIL COLLEGE
Get me a friend or a smoke or a hospital or a suicide pill.
Get me a million dollar record deal so I can end this charade.
I've been writing the same song over again, over again, over again.
Over and over and over and over again.
And it feels like heroin.
I just got addicted to demanding your attention for my trite repetition.
And I can't stop thinking about the first songs I ever wrote
Where I swore off alcohol 'cause I knew better.
And I can't stop feeling like that "straight edge" shit became a cult
But I'm kidding myself by believing that the bar scene is any better.
And I keep writing the same damn song over again and over again and over again.
And it feels like there's nothing left at all.
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
I can't believe it, the way you look sometimes
Like a trampled flag on a city street, oh yeah
And I don't want it, the things you're offering me
Symbolized bar code, quick ID, oh yeah
See I'm a 21st century digital boy
I don't know how to read but I've got a lot of toys
My daddy's a lazy middle class intellectual
My mommy's on Valium, so ineffectual
Ain't life a mystery?
I can't explain it, the things you're saying to me
It's going yayayayayayaya, oh yeah
Tried to tell you about no control
But now I really don't know
And then you told me how bad you had to suffer
Is that really all you have to offer?
Cat's foot, iron claw
Neurosurgeon, scream for more
Innocence raped with napalm fire
Everything I want, I really need.
21st century schizoid boy
21st century video boy
21st century digital boy...
|
||||
5. |
Ringtones (For Skot)
01:30
|
|||
|
Ba da da da da da da da da ba duh da duh da da da da da da da da da dada dada.. etc. *Beeping sounds*
|
||||
Atomic Potato Cincinnati, Ohio
If you like Atomic Potato, you may also like:
Specializing in bright, sunny "bedroom rock español," this Brooklyn singer-songwriter puts a unique spin on lo-fi music.
go to album
Jagged post-punk from Sydney captures the sound of the ’70s in its acute angled guitars and detacted vocals.
go to album
Blistering post-punk from the UK powered by 100mph guitars and panicked vocals.
go to album
The Seattle band's ferocious third album balances rapid-fire hardcore with catchy songwriting.
go to album
The songs on the latest from Worriers hurtle forward breathlessly, with hook after hook topped by scorching vocal melodies.
go to album
We'll Hide Away: Complete Recordings 1993-1995
by Grain
In the early ’90s, the Ohio band were champions of boundary-crossing Midwestern hardcore.
go to album
Spetters / RA!D
by Spetters & RA!D
A terrific split cassette from two promising young indie bands, this is one part melody, one part fury.
go to album
