1. |
Hello Wisconsin
00:28
|
|||
2. |
||||
|
I hate my size and my shape,
my body and my pain,
my longing and my ache,
my lonely dismay.
And I hate my shame.
It never goes away.
Try to shake my feelings.
I don’t make my meetings.
Son of a bitch, everything’s real.
I've got this ache in my chest,
Catch myself checking my pulse now
About thirty times a day,
About thirty times today.
Holidays,
cum stains,
old ways,
no change.
I wish I could fold my mind
Into a paper crane,
Take my ache and hide it away.
Son of a bitch, everything’s real.
|
||||
3. |
Lost
03:43
|
|||
|
The orange knife sliced right through a Lake Michigan night,
cut my stupor right in two, where'd the goddamn time all go?
Birds in the trees, the voice on the phone, asking me nicely,
"Come home, spend the night in bed, not wandering the asphalt."
Stammering, "I'm almost there, but don't wait up."
I got lost along the way.
I was gonna howl around the world,
with electric charm and a neon suitcase,
write every sound and live every word.
Pry my eyes open, I'm so sick of dreaming.
Muddy smile, cracked dive bar glass,
smell of fear, and day old booze,
distilled pride and bottled doubts.
Don't know where I'm going,
don't care if I get there at all.
I got lost along the way.
|
||||
4. |
Southbound & Down
02:54
|
|||
|
Southbound 65, in the bucket seat,
drifting away from home and love,
everything sustaining.
Looming in the distance through the Indiana gloom,
red eyed windmills seething in the fog.
I traded all my little glories for a job
plugging in someone else's
name in glowing lights.
I've got no other skill and I've got bills to pay
I'll take this job and shrug it through.
Wake in a hotel room with the TV on loud,
wonder what its like back home
do they even know I'm gone?
Treat myself top breakfast, I am finally in the black.
Just as I get comfortable the call comes through:
Burn it up, we're heading South.
Turn it up, we're heading South.
If this is what I wanted why'm I down all the time?
If this is what I wanted why'm I down?
Southbound and down all the time.
Southbound and down.
|
||||
5. |
The Boys
03:35
|
|||
|
Boys,
in the stalls,
boys,
feeling small,
dying—
does anyone need you at all?
Cry, boys.
Get high, boys.
My boys.
Guess who just got back today?
Your best friend, anxiety.
The fear is never, ever going away.
|
||||
6. |
The Hits
02:42
|
|||
|
Here I am
an out of body bike ride
shaken to life again.
Let me go
I wanna be alone.
All night long
with Summer Babe and Skinhead Rob.
All night long
far from Edelweiss.
Away from the drunks and the mics.
Queue that sinking feeling.
I don’t mind
Cause I don’t remember.
Take me home
|
||||
7. |
The Runt
02:49
|
|||
|
Small, white dog,
little, bright star—
far above the world, you are—
singing to the sun,
to your silent, giant neighbor:
will you wave to me, "Goodnight,"
as I timidly float by?
Dwarfed in size, eclipsed in heart,
you are trying.
You are nothing,
little dog.
|
||||
8. |
The Gloom
03:24
|
|||
|
Stiff Thanksgiving dinner hurt my feelings.
The faded finger painting of my health
came face to face with you,
o red and rising moon.
I felt the gloom and I called for help.
And I soiled myself.
Wait for the sun
when his blinding face will shine upon you.
Turn in your guns.
Never-ending love won’t deceive you
or leave you on the road.
Before you get lost,
pick up your cross.
Sky’s getting dark.
Go build the ark.
|
||||
9. |
The Stranger
02:31
|
|||
|
Deep in the woods with you,
he came out of the blue,
handsome and cunning.
And next thing I knew,
he was sawing off my limbs.
And you stood watch and grinned.
And I swear,
somebody’s laughing upstairs.
Intimidated by your family,
I couldn’t shake my depression.
Anxiety had me flattened to the bed—
the stranger in my head.
I was scared
but somebody loves me upstairs.
And I’m scared
but somebody loves me upstairs.
Pity me.
Pity me, mama.
|
||||
10. |
The Closer
04:15
|
|||
|
The meaning of holy,
you seek in the coldy.
The dream is still breathing, Brody,
but this town needs a hero.
Now, could that be you?
You pick up the chicken
and something for sleeping.
Got work in the evening
but now it is morning.
Apartment is empty
and nobody’s calling.
New York is alright if you like to be abused.
If you don’t give yourself permission to live,
it’s never gonna come from someone else.
Tough cock,
push up the rock.
Sit in the space where the pain don’t stop.
You’ll never defeat it.
|
||||
Two Houses Chicago
Triumphant sad bastard music. Reliable rock n' roll.
Two Houses recommends:
The worst band on earth.
go to album
Sass Dragons once played the basement of a house we lived in and I saw Jimmy's dick and also the porch collapsed. This record is great.
go to album
The boys. Our boys. We did a split with them. Both of their LPs are damn fine.
go to albumIf you like Two Houses, you may also like:
supported by 5 fans who also own “Can't Fail”
came for "high in the morning," stayed for "useless friends," became obsessed with "stay asleep." this band can do no wrong. "i never thought love would be the losing side" sucks as a lyric when you're trying to be a lyricists, cuz it's just not fair.
go to album
The Best Of All Possible Worlds
by Elway
supported by 5 fans who also own “Can't Fail”
go to album
Jangly, slick pop rock has shades of early Bangles and the Pandoras.
go to album
