- Re: Guns Re-Rec
but really, a hearty re-recommendation to all records used herein.
thanks to Traeidein for struggling with me via email and putting up with my back-and-forth on this one.
This is all I could come up with right now. Clare's testimonial is amazing.
I am a writer. Yes, it is true. I write the things that make the whole world read. Sometimes I write a piece that someone not only reads but sings. Sometimes what I write gets made into a dramatic play and acted out on stage. Other times my writings get used against me in a court of law, repeatedly. I am a writer not a right-er. What I'm trying to say is...I fuck up a lot.
I prepare for every job interview the same way: I play chess against myself for a week and I ALWAYS WIN. It's just that this way, when it is time for me to go into the job interview, they will get a strong impression that I've just overcome something dark. That is, if I win as the white pieces. Yes, they notice a perserverance, a fight in me. Either that or they get a racist vibe.
My girlfriend thinks I should stop watching tv shows with the laptop on my crotch. She would like children someday she says. I would like children someday I reply. I would also like to finish this season and not contribute to overpopulation and enjoy my unconventional free heating pad, for my crotch. I don't say this of course, I just break up with her and resume my videos.
There are two kinds of people in the world ...
and I really wish they'd start shacking up and making sweet love together, and just relax ya know.
There are 2 kinds of people in the world:
not my kind of people
- High School Dreams
written & recorded at BritRECord House of Awesome in Somerset UK 2014
words: theboxsets, joerud, tori
vocals: Verse - theboxsets
Chorus - joerud & chorus (L. D. N., tori, chariot13, pamagotchi, captnclare)
"not my flute" - Tori
music, guitar, harmonies, mix: joerud
Oh so standardly I sit on my little seat
chewing on my penitentiary rows
of them devil's feet
staring at the sneaker stacks
begging for my weekend back
I can feel my focus start to fade
Poolside, nap-sacked, heavy eyed I'm sleeping
Bonafide, stoner guy, Perelli's in the deep end
Sally's swimming butterfly
temp is rising, wonder why
I just want to get laid
Cheering on the football team
sitting at the front of class
honro roll and homecoming queen
making your parents proud
Oh so desperately I trudge down the hallway
one long assembly of girls, not a word to say
Cheerlearders are out of touch
nerdy girls mmm not so much
band girls are busy on the flute (not my flute)
All the girls I'm looking for, filling up the corridor
feeling like Augustus as he walks into a candy store
panic stricken, rubber necking, checking for a second glance
dumb and drooling, I'm a fool mid crowd in a static trance
but something's got a hold of me
my feet they fall from under me
finally attention's getting paid
but that won't help me get laid
Apple on the teacher's desk
never late for math
taking notes, pass all the tests
friends with all the staff
Sitting on the sick bed
tending to my bruised head
ice packed, tragic act, you won't see me going back
that's when I saw the nurse she said "lie down", I said "you first"
I'll be the mack daddy of 9th grade
I was set to pounce on her
then in walked the school counselor
he said "stop, I will help you get laid"