1. |
Waiting for a Hot Pocket
05:16
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I always feel jealous when I see my friends dead on the news.
You think you’re just talking but it looks like you’re stalking the muse.
Your collection of names reflects nothing but necks in your noose.
I suppose I respect but I won’t genuflect in your pew.
What is it I’m doing when reviewing the way babies are made?
Sit down, Bloody Mary. What angles are left to be played?
I was cozy in prison where all my decisions were made.
It feels just like lying every time I’m applying me trade.
I’ve been holed up working while the vultures were circling.
I’d rather be bold than be paid.
Los Angeles makes a nice place to lay down in the shade.
I try to get sleep as the boogie men dance on the roof.
I’m jaded and bored and a little bit long in the tooth.
I feel out of place as I bury my face in the booth.
I think I’ve got something but I don’t really have any proof.
I’m trying to remember… I’m wondering if I ever felt this estranged in my youth.
Los Angeles makes a nice place to let go of the truth.
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2. |
Rubbermaid Woman
03:40
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If they can find a superman to get the leader of the Taliban to talk.
We can find an artist who would silhouette the Ku Klux Klan in chalk.
Put a price on misery, deduct it from your destiny and leave a crew of burnouts on the clock.
Set the words to melody, send the old folks out to sea and leave the children standing at the dock.
Mother said when I was born that an outward scorn would build my self-esteem.
Never learned to play the horn but I could have sworn I’d found a love supreme.
Had I not been born above I’d be locked away and making love to a Rubbermaid glove that’s filled with vaseline.
I could be out in the cold and still be seeking warmth and gold in the inner trifold of a groupie magazine.
I’m not immune to greed, but I can’t tell the flower from the weed.
If they can take the seed, who’s going to come to perpetuate the breed?
O, baby! A Rubbermaid Woman is the only love I need.
As long as I’m still living here I’m gonna change the world, gonna reinvent the wheel.
Before I up and disappear I’m gonna mine the pearl, gonna thread it through the reel.
You can smell the burning flesh.
Revolution war against Judi Dench.
Burning money in a trench flying drones across the wall.
I already smell the stench. Huffing diesel and speaking french to a statue on a bench in the slums of Montreal.
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3. |
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You took on the world and you did it with your bluejeans on.
You taught us how to love and you cared about right and wrong.
You were the center of the world until the next thing came along.
What went wrong?
You got out of the draft, said you had to do what you could.
So you took out a loan and put a shopping mall in the woods.
I hate to admit it but the old men got you good. Understood.
Save us from the bully like you did when your hair was long.
Daddy, was it really just about the drugs all along?
In the blink of an eye a whole generation has come and gone.
Please don’t tell me it was really just about the drugs all along.
Do you remember where you were when you first heard your favorite song?
Before you got a little money and you finally learned to love the bomb…
Jumping Jack Flash gonna sell you a mobile phone.
Oh my God.
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4. |
Little Black Shoes
03:58
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Royalties went up my nose.
Designer clothes from Melrose. Baby, we’re the coolest.
Vegetarian beefcakes.
Out on the scene with my cell mates we’re looking like the Stooges.
Bell-bottom jeans and pointy-toed boots, can you hear me?
Rose-colored shades and tepid blues roots, can you see me?
Money got you singing the rich man’s blues.
Nowhere to run in my little black shoes, do you feel me?
Hippy dippy women in Dolce & Gabbana got the sauna popping off at the poolside cabana at the chateau.
Living hand to mouth yet somehow paying the cost of Saint Laurent ponchos for Indio ayahuasca on the plateau.
Floppy brimmed hats and coconut wax, can you hear me?
Little white sacs in cigarette packs, can you see me?
Money got you singing the rich man’s blues.
Nowhere to run in my little black shoes. Do you feel me?
Manson family children are coming over the hill in Burrito Brothers suits, a meticulous look to kill.
It’s the cutest.
Past is what it is. Tomorrow ain’t what it was. Embrace the acid visions and tell yourself that the swastikas are Buddhist.
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5. |
Las Vegas Salvation
04:54
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I won a millions dollars in a lucid dream
Picked up a pocket full of tickets that I won’t redeem
With any luck security won’t hear my scream coming through the door
Taking love for granted is an ancient vice
Like looking to the heavens with a sacrifice
Or paying for a concubine to roll the dice
Hypnotized by the colors of the slot machine
If I die of dehydration, baby, on the banks of an arid stream
let the birds of prey come pick my pockets clean.
I can wash away my sins now, baby, with a gallon of gasoline.
Let the tongues of a beating son lick down on me.
Ain’t no way to prove what you don’t believe
The truth of what you give and what you don’t receive
Predetermined by a spade up a dealers sleeve
But all I ever had to do was peel the Queen
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6. |
Men, Like Me
03:24
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Didn’t have a lot of luck today. Hoping to find a little something on the cheap. On and on.
When it comes to the rat race, Honey, you and I got trampled by the sheep. How’d you get lost with me?
Still drawn to the light if we die we’ll have found a place to sleep. I drive drunk through the night trying to kill any man who looks like me and I wouldn’t redesign and love of mine. To hell if I’ll defile what I believe.
Only for a moment I can pantomime and frame of mind with alligator arms but you know I try too. Back to the stray to the time bomb ticking away. Wide awake in the morning I can rise from the pyre, hair one fire. I’m in love with a woman who can tolerate me.
Didn’t recognize science fiction. Fantasy never fell within my reach.
If I could go where the violent fathers who dress like women bury yellow El Dorados on the beach. How’d you get lost with me?
You and I we don’t need anybody we’ll create someone to teach. Tried to say what was getting in the way but the moment took my speech.
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7. |
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You get the kids, I’ll get the Bible
You grab the rings, I’ll get the rifle
Gather the necessities of our advantage
All the possessions that a man can manage
Make sure to scramble for the Jerry Campbell boots
the ones that go together with your Schiaparelli suits
that I bought in desperation when you wanted to refute my love
Valentino boots, Farantelli candles
But the Ferragamo pumps won’t work and the Venus is a gamble
Glory hallelujah what a fraud was Handl
Find yourself a deity with Loubitin sandals
No one could find him when the empire fell
cuz he quarantined his family in a gold hotel
and ascended to the heavens in a bulletproof shell above
Nobody noticed when the sky came falling down
Liquidation doesn’t make a sound but radiation burns like hell
I’ll get the guitar, you get the liquor
the portrait of the pope went up in flames with the wicker
you could see it coming when the towns went tribal
order a hooker from a catalogue bible
Gruyere and crackers and a Korbel brut
We can celebrate the coming in a Hazmat suit
with a teflon prophylactic so the rabies don’t pollute my love
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8. |
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The male ego on that woman got me comatose
I should have lost my vanity at the Galapagos
Better kill my idols before I beat my wife and overdose
Be my crooked CPA and baby I could be your whore
Cuz jealousy is the only thing that motivates me anymore
I guess my skin will keep me safe when law enforcement starts a war
They’re gonna shoot up every business that you patronize
Tina Turner legs, Richard Nixon eyes
It’s going down in any era that you fetishize
Tina Turner legs, Richard Nixon eyes
It’s Halloween and Richard Nixon got me doing dirt
He caught me perving out of Tina Turner in a mini skirt
Next time they kick me when I’m down they’re gonna make it hurt
Stuck in traffic with three million people filled with hate
Because we don’t even got us any leaders to assassinate
You better save up for the cover charge at Heaven’s Gate
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9. |
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Vomit slicks the pavement on the avenue of stars
Julius Caesar’s lukewarm blood pays tribute to her scars
Brandi makes her ass clap to the strings of Life on Mars
Purple wigs clutch fetal pigs dip cigarettes in jars
“We don’t pay the dancers here!” a voice cries out in vain
Perhaps the brothers John and John will pay to run the train
I don’t have a twenty to go back to where I came
Murdered crows unlock my nose and vanish in the flames
I’ve already lost my faith
But I will never find my peace
If a young woman’s desperation is the only way to tame my beast
The bar wench she familiarizes perverts in the wind
Take this cup away from me lies she who hasn’t sinned
Heaven isn’t up above, Lord knows it isn’t here
So I’ll stare into the fingerprints until I see you in the mirror
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10. |
I Think It's Gonna Rain
07:12
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I can see you
Floating in the cloud
Posing with your trophy
Unfettered access is allowed
I can see you
Eating like a king
A picture of your newborn
Otherwise a moment in the wind
If you don’t see the shape in the cloud, the face in the shroud
your life won’t mean a thing
Celebration
Congratulations to your band
Merry Christmas to your family
Happy birthday to your man
Let it be known
You say you’re mad about the war
You’re upset about all the celebrities dying this year
Meanwhile it’s easy to ignore
If the silver lining ever rips, the glass half full tips
the midnight is going to poor
I think it’s gonna rain
All your intentions of good could be solid as wood but it would not ease the pain
I think it’s gonna rain
Yeah, I’m afraid it’s gonna rain
Oh, no
Affirmations from those who agree
The illusion of freedom from things we can’t explain
Reinvention
You’ve got a new look on your face
Proclamation of pretension
You’re disillusioned with your race
Good old convention
You put a Windsor in your tie
Hyper kids and hypertension
Jingoist picnic in July
And when we finally burn through the fog
your cat and your dog will be falling from the sky
I think it’s gonna rain
All your bad credit and drugs
Those white collar thugs gonna chase you down the drain
I think it’s gonna rain
All of your fight and your rage will be locked in a cage
until they drag you off the plane
I think it’s going to rain
All of your tears and your blood
Would be lost in the mud
If they did not leave a stain
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Butch Bastard Seattle, Washington
Butch Bastard is the moniker of Seattle-raised, Los Angeles-based musician and songwriter Ian Murray. Before beginning Butch Bastard, Murray was a core member of “Fleet Foxes side-project” Poor Moon.
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