1. |
Warble
01:54
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(So I says to myself, I says, "Self! What's there to live for if not to create?)
I got bed sores on my hip bones.
Little caverns. Sweet kisses from the nurses.
Lots of bed rest. Lying there and looking dumb.
I got rug burns on my elbows.
Been caught crawling toward the heaven out that window.
Isopropyl. Lots of pills and isopropyl.
You picked your dog but I think you got the one with the colic.
Thought it was love and then fucked out a maggot.
Just ignore it. Gyrating. Gestating, oh...
Soon she'll be a fly.
Now this surgery that becomes us will take what's left so goddamnit, sing a chorus!
Soon she'll be a fly!
And soon she'll die up against that window...
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2. |
The Man Upstairs
02:10
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You can only be as quiet as the man that you're hiding in your attic is...
Cause if he loses it...
Then they're gonna hear some steps, or they're gonna hear some rummaging in the ceiling.
And you'll be suspected of treason, among other things.
And you'll never see your folks again.
Or your kids, or whatever it is...
That made you compassionate enough...
To let a man go crawling up your attic...
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3. |
How We Get Things
02:07
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Judge your surroundings by the manner in which your enemy carries his gun.
I'll rush to aid you with my bayonet and salute you after you're slain.
This is, by the far, the worst infection to ever sweep our camp.
After you fell we went down to the river and there we attempted to run.
My barrel melted, my shot all used up, and my powder getting moist... with my own blood.
This is, by far, the worst infection to ever sweep our camp.
I saw my reflection in the crystal water, then I turned it red.
Me and the General, both with blank looks on our faces.
This is, by far, the most glorious death to hit our ranks...
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4. |
Scalps
01:45
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I will drive the dagger as far as it will go.
Mention me when you get there so that they will know
That the awkwardness and the accidents
Are like perfumed hair in golden curls
On a scalp that I touched once but never again.
It got tangled in the mess attached to my skin.
Fall and hit your face some so you can learn and grow.
Til the sky falls and ruins all your fancy clothes
That you wore to bed.
That you're sleeping in.
Sometimes that's the way it goes.
Like the scalp that I touched once but never again.
I was careless with it. I dug my fingers in.
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5. |
April 25th
01:40
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There are six shots in my revolver.
In my Mom's shotgun, there's two.
And if that's not enough, there must've been nine of you.
There were lights coming from the barn all last night.
I watched them, afraid, but still focused.
I took ill the next day but nobody noticed.
So now its come to this and that.
There's nothing in between.
I was born the same day that they first used the guillotine.
I set a flame in the yard. It crept toward the barn.
All inside surely must have suffered.
So I went to bed. Later on the wind shifted the smoke and I smothered.
Cry me a river, then sell me a boat.
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6. |
Love Song For Killers
03:17
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My love's allusive like a traveling killer.
So darling shed those tears.
Scratch your initials into my shoulder so I know you were here.
Make it impressive in the simplest way
So that even if its a trick you will say...
"Some things were meant to be. Meant to happen."
Yeah, well, I have my doubts.
Experience is like falling down a well...
You go in... You don't come out.
You want to try me and convict me of sin.
Men died before, and they will die again.
The luckiest will be the workers, too tired to think of the shit we're all in.
They stole our daughters. Slaughtered our sons, oh...
They silenced every lip.
They left our homes in a burning pile.
Our bread soaked with their spit.
The peasants once held fear for the dragon,
Now they chase him around.
And I've grown so sick of the Devil dumbing my wrong doings down.
I'll take the blame. Yeah, I'll take the credit.
After all, it is mine.
Sometimes to learn you have to fall down a mountain you always dreamed you climb.
I've tried you all, you've been convicted of sin.
I've killed before, and I will kill again.
The memory is all that matters.
Whether it be through the eyes of your killer or your kin.
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7. |
Ode to Cassettes
01:40
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War trades a tape deck to CD conversion.
I am the product of Cassette Generation.
I like my magnetic tape.
Don't take it away.
Price is the center of basis.
Don't you dare be late.
High price tags. Photocopies. Static. Erasures.
Sweat. Bullets. Money. Crime.
Courts. Suits. Cursors.
When we leave we will not wait.
Don't you dare be late.
War makes lives marketed to upgrade conversions.
I am the product of a dead generation.
I like my magnetic tape.
Don't take it away.
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Andy the Doorbum
Andy the Doorbum has been writing and recording his own music since he was 9 years old.
His discography
ranges from eccentric lo-fi caterwauling to lush self-recorded pieces described as "filling a darkening void with a pitch black effort." All of this is done with the goal of finding the beauty in the ugly reality of the world. Growth from upheaval. Art for survival. Creativity or extinction.
... more
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