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American Radass (this is important)

by Dads

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1.
We water the plants even after they die, waste all our time in the helpless notion of shooting around in blankets of fog, eyes closed, shouting your name to no one. There’s a horror story in here somewhere but we are too apathetic to find it. We can pick out our faults enough to blame our parents, why can’t we blame ourselves? You, only you, can change yourself.
2.
You used to watch me while I'd drive, but now all you watch is how many exits until you're home. It shouldn't be this forced to not act so upset every time I hear your name. Since you’ve left the home we made you’ve been out fucking someone else. A permanent bee sting in my throat, I can't ever catch my breath. It's not fair to tell me to cheer up.
3.
I dwell on things that break my own heart, I think and think until I drink and drink, it's the side of myself that I’m most comfortable with; the side of me that lets me sleep. I dwell on things to break my own heart because I could give a shit about how I think. I just keep hoping my brain, my heart, and my guts will stop don't call me a coward when I say these things just be proud I'm not ashamed of who I am just be proud I'm not like you.
4.
If this is such a joke then where is your punch line, discrimination isn’t funny and your audience is getting harder to find. “We’re just having fun,” yeah I’ve heard that one before, it’s shock value humor when all you get is silence, you try for some more. Well no one’s laughing here, open your mind and open your ears, think past your friends, think how far each word can go, think of how strangers see you, is this what you want to show? There’s more than your circle, there are people you’ve never met. Look at what you’re projecting, the examples that you set. Don’t try to tell me what punk is or just how you envision it. If this is how you will stay than your scene will have a division in it. What about your heroes, the people you adore? If they heard what you were saying, would they listen anymore? What would your idols think?
5.
06:54
There is a chest of skin, of drawers, with pictures of waterspouts coming out from the ocean and into the mainland where you once lived before when you were younger before you learned how to hope, want, or wish. Your step became unsteady once, even more, every time you would stand on shrapnel. (Under your feet.) There was a growth under your skin, an addition of pride, for your newfound wasteland But even worse, the future you see, the future you bring, the future you are completely okay with. I could wait up sick, waiting for a response, I could wait up waiting for anything, and it’s something that you’re completely okay with. You’ve been standing outside of my apartment, With your mouth open wide, and I haven’t heard enough of it. Tell me, tell me, Miranda, where do you see yourself tomorrow? Do you worry each Wednesday, when the week is almost over, where you will sleep where you will sleep your sanctuary is Missouri in May, and I still insist on cutting my tongue off. You’ve been standing outside of my apartment, With your mouth open wide, and I haven’t heard enough of it. I will not speak of the crash, cause if it is never spoken of, then history will never know it happened. If it is never written about, then no one can ever read it. If it is never talked about, then no one can ever hear it. Do we know the truths Of every broken step? Only if it’s told, forgotten when it’s old, undesired and cold, there is no story to be sold. (we’ll say) We’ll say we’ll meet up in some hotel room, be it fancy or pay by the hour, and we’ll comfort each other like we used to in our time, you’ll say it’ll be just like the old days but it won’t be the fucking old days no it won’t be the fucking old days, only now with our broken parts, our overused and torn up pieces. Will it be better than before? Will it be better than before? Do we thank our practice with others, or will it be tarnished by exact thought? Will it be better than before? Will it be better than before?
6.
I’ve gotten so good at stumbling through ditches that now I’m starting to fall into holes. When you’re this young and so excited, you won’t remember to set any goals.
7.
01:46
One day you’ll be married, and you won’t have to feel dirty purchasing pregnancy tests from convenience stores with your best friend, oh I was your best friend once, walking down the aisles picking out baby names. Yesterday I found pictures of you sitting in your underwear; a middle finger to your mother, and a fuck you to your father. There’s a flag in my doorframe, there’s a sweater on the floor, there was a time you once loved me but we both know that’s no more. But were you sure? Well are you sure?
8.
I wouldn’t even call this hard work, yeah I’ve done some bleeding, but there’s always a warmth, for what it’s worth. Spent most of Florida hanging around, drowning in old friends and beautiful sounds, singing. Just like the trees friendships will bloom, I might be leaving now but I’ll be back soon. My home has wheels, at least that’s how it feels. Just like the trees friendships will bloom, I might be leaving now but I’ll be back soon. Light trails on your face is how I’ll remember your smiles, as night takes its place we’ve still got so many miles. It turns out you’re right (and I’m not sorry) It turns out you’re right Blood, sweat, and tears; that’s what’s keeping me here.
9.
Love is bleaching bed sheets, because we could never wait. Love is seeking bare feet, phone calls from other states. Love was loved ones, love was loved once. Well do you still forget to brush your teeth? Cause you’re too caught up in the morning; each eyes peel, peer into pores, change of breathing wakes each other up. Now it’s cold air, nobodys laying there, checking my phone and going back to sleep. I sleep in a bed and home that we made but I'm left alone with your scent on pillow sheets. Rearranging furniture to forget my past mistakes, covering up the walls in an attempt to create something that will make me forget who you've become, something that will make me forget what you've lost. And now it’s new meaning into inanimate objects, working towards better health or just longer breaths to kill more time. Count the seconds, count the heartbeats, count the messages, count the lack of replies. People we loved hurt us and we make up excuses to tell ourselves they had to, and that it’s all okay and that they mean well, but why? I'm going to start doing what I want to do, I'm going to start getting selfish.
10.
You get some time away and time really gets away from you. I said I was searching for myself but I was running from everything too. A new degree, a piece of paper, framed in dark ebony to hang up later. (or else it’s) Your harsh words, whispered into my ear, You said, “This time was fun, but you no longer belong here.” In your bedroom with those foreign faces. Under your clothes, private places. I’ll push my roots into the road with all my might, cause I’m not coming back tonight. From coast to coast, until I’m bored of the sea. Making land into stories, pictures mean memories. Until you won’t recognize me. Until you won’t recognize me.

credits

released August 7, 2012

John Bradley: Vocals/Drums/Bass
Scott Scharinger: Vocals/Guitar

Recorded by Ryan Stack at Format Audio in March of 2012
Mastered by Bill Henderson at Azimuth Mastering
Cover Photo by Dan Bassini

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