Songs The Animals Taught Us

by Roommate

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04:56
2.
03:59
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05:03
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05:10
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01:29
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04:26
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04:06
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credits

released 18 April 2006

Kent Lambert: vocals, lyrics, keyboards, melodica, gameboy, computer. Amy Cimini: viola ("Fairgrounds", "Hollis"). Tom Comerford: guitar ("Status hounds"). Anton Hatwich: bass ("Fairgrounds", "Status hounds", "Fresh boys", "Hollis"). Cody Hennesy: guitar ("Fresh boys", "Hollis"), aux drums ("Fresh boys", "Molly", "Hollis"), mixing ("Molly"), backing vocals ("Hollis"). Dewayne Slightweight: xylophone ("Fairgrounds"), backing vocals ("Status hounds"). "Uncle" Woody Sullender: banjo ("Fairgrounds"). Evelyn Weston: saw ("Fairgrounds", "Molly"). Mark Wright: brownie* ("Fairgrounds). Katie Young: bassoon ("Fairgrounds", "Hollis"). Produced by Kent Lambert from September 2001 through June 2005 in Brooklyn, NY, Iowa City, IA, and Chicago, IL. Mixed and mastered by Tucker Burnes and Kent Lambert in Toddville, IA. Drawings and layout by Dean Rank.

*The brownie is a magical musical instrument created by David S. Moré.

All songs by Kent Lambert (ASCAP) except "Fresh boys" by Kent Lambert & Jason Viteritti and "Dinner with Ivan" by Todd Park Mohr (BMI).

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Track Name: Tuesday
The war will start on Monday we will go to work we will read the headlines we will go get coffee. The war will start on Monday we will talk to God or maybe not we will go get lunch. Maybe we'll eat pasta maybe we'll eat pork maybe we'll eat tofu maybe we'll eat crow maybe we'll eat crow. The war will start on monday we will watch the clock we'll go to the protest or maybe not or maybe not. The war will start on Monday we will watch TV we will change the channels we will go to sleep and in our dreams we'll drop the bombs and stop the bleeding in our dreams we'll write the songs that start the healing in our dreams we'll find another way and the war will end on Tuesday.
Track Name: Fairgrounds
My bicycle's all tricked out and my hair's combed I'm leaving the helmet home today it's a good day to die it's a good day to die and I will ride to the fairgrounds and I will see you across the field and I will kneel down and you will open your eyes and the birds will steal the songs from my heart birds will steal the songs from my heart and we will never be apart again we will never be apart again. Cry me into the river fly me up to the top of the mountain drive me into the side of the waterslide get me high and get me back steal my car and my credit card rob my rehabbed apartment break my keytar call my parents and tell them how bad I've been help me get myself out of this tournament when we meet at the fairgrounds I'll bleed for you I will bury my pain in my need for you we will waste in the sun with our waterguns we will fade in the shade of the Bullet-Drop up on the hill what a thrill to be young and dumb.
Track Name: Hot Commods
I'd like to sell you some misery I won't charge much parts and labor tax and surcharge I will describe and decry the things that weigh down my life but I can't do that for free in this economy. I'd like to buy me some happy I won't pay much parts and labor tax and surcharge will you conjure the things that give your dream-self wings and can you paint them can you sing them can you recreate them in detail and price them at retail will you ship them straight out air express to my house and can I get a discount? Oh how our pockets are burning away!
Track Name: Status Hounds
Manhattan rats are all dressed up and looking pretty as they stumble back and forth between their ivory slums and petty cash machines. Pasty trust fund babies swim in pools of perfume they'll get so high on the fumes they will fly to their tombs. And who's to say it won't get easier for us so far beneath them? And let's suppose that they should fall from the sky moments shy of heaven would that defeat them? Everybody's talkin' 'bout the new sound funny money fuels the underground where beat-up coats compete for seats with faithless thieves and fancy folk. Taste-making hearts breaking who's got horror stories about the drugs they're taking no faking prizes to the souls past saving! The line extends for miles and miles. Cheap quips collect in tidy piles. Can't see the stars from where we stand. Can't see the clothing for the brand. Status hounds with mouths of foam will lead the squatters to their thrones and we'll sing: We hate the rich oh how our extremities twitch and sizzle what joy is ours when their shallow exploits pop and fizzle. We hate the rich but we might get rich maybe hate will make us rich.
Track Name: Typhoon
I've been flipping through magazines with faces like birthday cakes and bodies like Christmas Eve and smiles just like Halloween. I've been gazing at picture tubes flashing signals of sex and distress in my nest of cathode rays I will hide for days. I will hide from your heartbeat deep inside it will find me I will crack in your mirror I will melt on your tongue. I've been listening to ocean songs violins rip my skin apart whitecaps break my spirit typhoon come and break my heart. I've been wandering paper trails as diligent file clerks whistle dixie from their smoldering piles of history I will run and flee. I will flee to your shelter I will climb up your walls your eyes like sapphires love will rise when dead leaves fall. I've been reading from scriptures words can paint such awful pictures locusts plagues great wars and floods the gods give nothing if not love. Floodplains run with tears sun-baked midnight clears clearings freshly cut love burns underfoot. I've been staring at movie screens with faces like birthday cakes and bodies like Christmas Eve and smiles just like Halloween. I've been gazing at boats on the lake how much luxury would it take to kill me and how much of your breath would it take to fill me and how much love will save me?
Track Name: War Talk
We don't talk about the war we just talk about each other and the stress that we are under.
Track Name: Fresh Boys
White boys with elegant toys looking out from gilded cage suiting up for spotlit stage booting up and pressing play. White boys making disciplined noise spooning up your daily dose of rage. Fresh boys with elegant toys running tight righteous campaigns taking notes and filing claims. Old boys in sedentary crowds tapping toes and scratching chins fixing bets and breaking skin. Playboys standing tall and proud winning blessings from their kin spinning spin and cashing in cashing in.
Track Name: Molly
Pretty faces are falling fast fallen idols fade to glass through the glass see rippling skin break the ocean and dive in. Fell in love with a starfish she stole my heart but it grew back lost my mind in a death wish broke the ocean and dove in. What's the matter Molly is it the nighthawks calling out or is it the firebirds crying foul as they burn up the jailhouse? I must flee with the trade winds you must stay in the garden you'd be killed if they freed you it was so nice to meet you really. The sky was pink like a seashell I couldn't tell that it wasn't real I didn't know that I'd grow up or that the ocean had dried up or that the ocean had dried up or that the ocean had dried up.
Track Name: Hollis (hope to come back)
We will dance in an empty room the only light from the crescent moon leaked through the tiniest window. We will dance to the samba that bleeds from the holes in the walls. We will crawl to the ceiling drop and float in the breath of the ghosts of our children's children's children in the smoke from our dreaming. You will sleep on the river's bank in a blanket of sorrow far away from the hollow that filled up your old days. We will find you and guide you away from the bad places. We will sing through the fog songs the animals taught us. We will sing through the rain all the way to our new days.