1. |
Intro
00:46
|
|||
2. |
Alotta Money
03:52
|
|||
|
Trucker buys a pack of menthols, eight twenty-five.
Pills around Christmas. I keep the tradition
alive on the couch with juice in my mouth
I’m hovering on highways just over the South.
So 80, my lady, I’m carving your spine.
Your limbs are the streets to my home-
you never were mine,
and these simplest similes
pop in my noggin from a hole in the passenger seat.
Do you wanna make alotta money?
Do you wanna shake. Do ya honey?
Do you wanna make alotta money now?
Alotta money
Average cadavers in a hotel bar room.
One crumbles down and clouds up
and one sweeps with a broom.
I see it all from down in my cave.
I’ve been in the earth.
What time have I saved?
Everyone gets buried all pale and well-dressed.
The bankers of Boston they dream of the west.
They’re not in on the inside joke.
Well neither am I, but somedays I’m broke.
|
||||
3. |
Man Child
04:32
|
|||
|
I’m living in a snow globe. I’ve paced this hall before.
Amphetamine highways and chairs against the door.
The gargoyles told me so.
You can never really stay, you’ll just be the last to go.
She don’t act like she’s twenty two.
She’ll probably be married soon.
I’ve got some growing up to do.
A man child in a bedroom.
So put me in a still life ‘cause this is a not a pipe.
Oh, the fruit don’t get anxious when the time’s right.
If I see her on a day with scintillating hair that falls down between her shoulders.
Send me on my way. I can’t afford to dream much more before I’m older now.
I sleep on a set of stairs.
Across the sky, I left her there.
Waking with a headache in the womb.
|
||||
4. |
In Omaha
02:35
|
|||
|
I’m too hungover to be sad.
I found the meaning of life in Omaha.
I’m in a boat up in the sky
trampolining up and down.
I’m holding on for life.
This is the last night of the year.
This is the first time I’m alright, alright.
I’m getting high in Manhattan Beach.
Carbon copy loneliness I found in Omaha.
She’s in a halo of bouquets
and she likes to hear me sing
about the sun at night.
This is the last night of the year.
This is the first time I’m alright, alright.
Someone’s playing country roads in Park Street and the overtones
sing duets with passing trains. The new year comes and I remain
alone in a bedroom on the Cape selling travel fiction
I am still in Omaha, on post-apocalyptic streets
and the last girl on earth comes up to me
and tells me I’ve got time.
This is the last night of the year.
This is the first time I’m alright, alright.
|
||||
5. |
It's Murder At Midnight
04:41
|
|||
|
I don’t know what I’ve been doing wrong.
It’s been so long.
Since I felt the blood beat
in your posters around me.
I think I’ll be alright
but it’s murder at midnight.
I’ve been lost, I’ve been lost sorta searching.
Sweet Emily, what’s your favorite time to never know me?
It’s midnight is it? tell me true.
‘Cause I’ve got some stomped-on clocks for you.
I nap on my death bed,
excavate the toolshed,
spread sorrow on my bread,
and shove it in my head.
I’ve been lost, I’ve been lost sorta searching.
Sweet Emily, what’s the time of night you never sing about me
I’ve got some dust bunnies in my room.
They’ve all grown tired hearing songs ‘bout you.
I’ve been lost, I’ve been lost sorta searching.
I’ve been lost, I’ve been lost sorta searching for you.
Yeah I think I’m alright.
At least there’s the moonlight
Yeah I think I’m alright.
It’s murder at midnight.
I’ve been lost, I’ve been lost sorta searching for you.
|
||||
6. |
The End
03:34
|
|||
|
Waking in a flower bed
fighting over who’s got next in death.
I think I’m gonna wait
for the world to end.
I asked a man - I hope he’s right -
if I’m letters in a novel what should I write?
“If you want a story”
he said, “kill your friends.”
So take this,
take this little piece of cardboard
take it, turn it to a real sword
and cut a hole in time
so I can crawl on back
out of mine.
So come inside my bas-tee-un
here we stay up all night just for fun
you sit cross-legged on the floor
and you paint my face.
I’ll go if I wanna go
but you alleviate my vertigo
clinging to a ball that’s flying through outer space.
So take this,
take this little piece of cardboard
take it, turn it to a real sword
and cut a hole in time
so I can crawl on back
out of mine.
Waking in a flower bed
fighting over who’s got next in death.
I think I’m gonna wait
for the world to end.
|
||||
Grumpus Boston, Massachusetts
Instagram: @grahamofgrumpus
If you like Grumpus, you may also like:
This Bay-Area based band offer modern indie songs with intertwining harmonies and searching refrains.
go to album
The former frontman of the Pains of Being Pure at Heart lets loose with a passionate, Dylan-esque record full of razor-sharp lyricism.
go to album
Melatonin Doomsday Blues
by Strange Magic
Home-produced, sun-warped indie rock with wry wit and charming jangle from New Mexico's Javier Romero.
go to album
Song Spells, No. 1: Cedarsmoke
by Sea Wolf
featured on Bandcamp Radio Jul 29, 2014
go to album
A surprisingly tender and intimate concept record about long distance love from Cody Votolato of The Blood Brothers/Head Wound City.
go to album
I'm the Moon, You're the Wave (so plz change w/ me) (EP)
by Spooky Mansion
featured on Bandcamp Radio Feb 21, 2017
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Oct 14, 2014
go to album
