1. |
Bullshit, Mr. Han Man
02:54
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Go to LFS and do a MA
What would my hometown boys say?
To see my name on bulletin boards
As I navigate through the hoards of la whores cause
I always wanted to do my best but had these fears that held
me back
Tried to let go of all I know but could never see which way the
wind blows
I wanted to know where I was going
To find who would come along with me
Watching St. Richard of Austin, a slacker from Boston lost in
his twenties
Trying to find a deeper meaning than others had in mind for
me
To travel alone into the Far East and wander along the Hong
Kong streets
Maybe there I'll see what destiny has waiting for me
I wanted to know where I was going
To find who would come along with me
I wanted to know where I was going
To find who would come along with me
Had to leave my fears behind for all the reason I could not
seem to change
I know its strange there must be something more than this
Had to leave my fears behind for all the reason I could not
seem to change
I know its strange there must be something more…
All the things you left behind it's a sign of the times
When mind become intertwined and I can't seem to find
The meaning of a dream or a strand of the seam
The start of this stream that flows to you
All this fucking time I've had it on my mind
Like a knife in my back and the courage that I lack
To be grasped by the truth but still be aloof
Of who I should be or what makes me
Had to leave my fears behind for all the reason I could not
seem to change
I know its strange there must be something more than this
Had to leave my fears behind for all the reason I could not
seem to change
I know its strange there must be something more than this
More than this
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2. |
LaMotta
02:27
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I punched his jaw till he could get up no more and I hope you
saw – I know you saw.
Thinking about that whore who spends my money and makes
me sore.
I would take you home but you would not come with me?
By the candlelight whereʼs my fucking dinner?
Come fucking home. Come fucking home.
I thought we were…
Over again, try and pretend that something would seem to
come through.
Something to send, or maybe to end, one last thought of you.
I would take you home but you would not come with me?
By the candlelight whereʼs my fucking dinner?
Come fucking home. Come fucking home.
Come fucking home. Come fucking home.
I stopped the smoking and drinking that fucked up my thinking
and began to play basketball and eat raw broccoli in a salad; I
wrote an embarrassing ballad and got laughed at by my
friends and had a few more cigarettes last weekend.
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3. |
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I am delicate, like the things you forget when youʼve drunk too
much and you feel the regret, of too many things said or
whispers in the bed mark my flesh the colour red or lick my
face. In the morning next to you upon your skin I placed a
bruise, watched it spread like an inkblot upon paper. I
browsed upon your freckles, tried to escape the shackles of
my own freckled body and failed.
I have dirt behind my ears, cut my hair with garden shears.
Hose me down cold and muddy, the ocean has drops too few.
Can I bathe with you? You could show me how you are alone.
Never felt so alone. So arrest me for stealing flowers leave me
in a cell for hours and hours or be me my June, je suis la lune,
I hoped that youʼd be coming soon to take the shackles from
my wrists and unclench these balled up boxing fists.
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4. |
How Can I Ever?
02:41
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How can I ever?
Itʼs much better than never
Days, weeks, inbetween us
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5. |
PanAm Smile
08:01
|
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|
Dressing gown, falling down, red. Leaning on the bed.
Arms over breasts, crossed and caressed her figure hidden.
Wondering whatʼs forbidden like a hole in the sole of my
shoes. Wondering whatʼs left to lose, playing the blues and
reading the news.
Dream, sleep, aspiration. Still I continue with perspiration.
Thunderous clouds in the view way ahead, the storm echoes
with every word unsaid. Full of dread for the memory decay,
the wind starts to blow as birds fly away. “In my beer you drop
your cigarette, donʼt you have the least regret.”
All this time, having lamb with wine, having coke with lime,
having times weʼve shared, in this deep regret, with this last
sunset, this fucking last request. All these schemes, having
teenage dreams, playing movies themes, these lives weʼve
shared, with this one last kiss, an eternal bliss, who will know
youʼve lived? And Iʼll always miss… You.
I canʼt believe you were fucking him; I canʼt believe you were
not fucking me.
I had you.
I canʼt believe you were fucking him; I canʼt believe you were
not fucking me.
There could always be a hope that; I had you.
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Skinny Dolphins Boston, UK
2012 - 2015
3 piece shoegazey emo band from Boston, UK.
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