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In Some Room: Volume II

by Dandelion Massacre

  • Digital Album
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    I found some unassembled jackets from the original print off. 35 to be exact. This is the last time this EP will he offered in a physical format by us so grab one!

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The Process 02:19
Underestimate the process And we'll wind up mad and cold I better count my fucking blessings And do what I'm told The wind blows like a whistle Trees bend my American cheese Time bends the imagination So we die with ease His battered tongue has cold soars And a mild case of chlamydia These freedom fries are too salty But at least they're kosher The sun fires like a pistol Cliffs end the American dream And we keep crawling deeper into the void Hoping we'll die with ease No satellites for guidance My mind wandered off the path But the good Lord Jobs will find me All his genius in an app Ninety nine percent unhappy And one percent greed It ain't nothin' to 'em but chump change Change that I can vote my way for free But it's an illusion It's an illusion It's our confusion But most of all It's my delusion
Gin gin I can't win My son is dead My wife won't grin Sin sin A life of sin I wanna die And I am giving in I used to smile smile Walk the mile Pick pretty flowers And be a good light child But now I grin grin For I'm bound to win To rule the world And torture the humans
Some people say there's style over substance Sometimes style is the substance And if you can't realize this Yer the reason art will not exist Linear narrative's a joke It creates a creative choke / hold It's been done before Hundred times before Film is just moving pictures A way of creating imagery Not just the depiction Of the novel on the big screen I want Hollywood to choke Cuz Divergent's a joke It's been made before A thousand times before Art doesn't have a beginning, middle, or end Story doesn't need a beginning, middle, or end Punk doesn't need a part where we all yell in unison But we'll do it again and again and again . . . This song's been played before A thousand times before So I'm as bad as you But at least I know it's true
I guess Merle Haggard isn't dead He's still alive and kickin' Pullin' songs out of his head When you said who you'll see playin' You said Merle, but I though Waylon And that's how I learned Merle Haggard isn't dead
Just like that I'm on twitter again And I've been reduced to One hundred and forty characters To get my point through But just like my love life I get no favorites Or retweets to keep me From growing complacent I guess I'll be working till I die Before I get my measely State mandated fifteen minute break Or we can spend our whole damned lives Searching for some place That we'll never find It doesn't exist It's time to go Stuck here nothing's happening And getting bored With finding what we're to subjugate And having not found love Being left behind's left everyone delusional Maybe it's time to follow suit and go
Where's the wine and cheese at the show? And shouldn't you be driving home in a BMW? I've seen less snobs at the Gallo Center for the Arts Judging people for who they know and what they wear You inherited yer parents band account and their arrogance Don't ever admit defeat Burn down the coffee shop, the Modesto indie elite It's funny to remember you talk about community Cuz you ran away from us off to some big city Where there's so many more people to exclude And you can grow yer brand like elitists do But I know you know we're gonna be alright The only ironic thing here is our indie lives See, we're thirteen years deep struggling DIY And if it's taught us one thing it's how to survive Would it kill you to have some human contact at this rock show? Did I just say rock show? Cuz apparently indie means Generic, major label, Coffee house singer-songwriters If you look pretentious up in the Websters dictionary You'll find an aging hipster and his flannel posse Skinny, old dismissive prick And his bearded, protege, flannel fucking troll It feels like Jesus on the cross It's so religious in it's loss A graven image in the mud Like when I shed my precious blood I am a loser I am Satan I am Jesus Christ I'm me There are no winners in this fucked reality I am a loser I am Satan I am Jesus Christ I'm me There are no winners in the Modesto indie scene


released June 19, 2014

Tevyn-Washtub Bass/Vocals


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