1. |
Glammin The Hill
03:18
|
|||
|
I live in a big house on a hill
Far away from everything and better still
So distantly related to me
It’s a life of comfort spent modestly
We’ll get there in good time
If it don’t break us
Because I could by living off of your crumbs
But I wouldn’t really want that to happen
Now I live in a big house by the sea
Or lake
Either way it’s haunted by deceased
Memories of weddings and grad parties
It’s a place we can go to if you’d like
We’ll get there in the night
Baby everything will be alright
We can turn around if you’d like
If it don’t break us
Because I could get by living off of your strums
But I wouldn’t really want that to happen
|
||||
2. |
Lenny
04:12
|
|||
|
They call me Lenny! Yeah, I could spell that… but hey! What for?!?
I met the strangest man singing show tunes right out my door
He's like a modern Costanza, with that stature and those crooked eyes (oh my my my)
Just a backhanded contrarian with a penchant for disparagingly off remarks,
My name’s the breeze so please wont you take a shot at me
I got some news for you but it ain’t gonna be whatchu wanna hear
Oh my oh my
Is that a pie in the sky?
Looking big and right/moving dyanmite
Looking mean and bright
I’m gonna give it to you
But I ain’t gonna tell you what to think
I'm on my knees, please oh please,
don't leave me here, take me with you!
Meet me in that breezy field where the willow weeps
we'll fly into the countryside, rain or shine, day or night
Just call me by my name, and I'll call you a friend of mine!
Lets fly into the countryside, rain or shine, day or night
Lets fly into the countryside, rain or shine, day or night (oh my, my, my)
Lets fly into the countryside, rain or shine, day or night
Lets fly into the countryside, rain or shine, day or night
|
||||
3. |
Harbour A Hand
03:07
|
|||
|
Quality is what you think you see before God’s choreography
Gets tangled in your synapses dreams
Oh please tell me you know what I mean
Well I could be sitting by a brook
Pouring out of your favorite book
Everything created by looking at what has really stuck
Misty magic on the breach
Jon told Bob told Rob told me
That I can see what I can see
Won’t you let the powers be
Well she told me coldly
Not to harbour a hand
But I could tell by that wayside glance that she had other plans
Well she told me coldly
Not to harbour a hand
But I could tell by that bitter look that she had other plans
Quality is what you think you see before God’s choreography
Gets scrambled in your neurotic dreams
Oh please tell me you know what I mean
I remember when you said we could be friends again
But that was a long time ago
And ain’t much has changed dontcha know
Misty magic on a leash
Jon told Bob told Rob told me
That I can see what I can see
Won’t you let the powers be
Well she told me coldly
Not to harbour a hand
But you were pretty strung out back then and franky I was spent
Well she told me coldly
Not to harbour a hand
But I could tell by that far-off, side-eyed glance that she had other plans
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
Well I’m just sitting with my baby in a cold dark lazy room
My my it’s half past nine
Those hazy lazy blues
It’s Friday morn the world’s to scorn
I sick it baby too
But a cat’s a-sleeping on my back and I can’t get away from you
I make it up but coffee keeps me tied up in the living room
Can’t force myself to look down Mifflin St from here on Broom
Your creaky voice comes creeping through the creaky door
So you can tell me
Max it’s dead
Come back to bed
To which I must be true
Until I saw electric light screaming down the one-way
I said hun I got to run lest I be caught in contempt
Of the law of Friday morn that says you got to get up early
Or play by the rules
You goddamn fool
I lost the race to save my face
And sitting in the glinting light
A ticket flapping in the wind
Madison city parking ticket groove
Ain’t it hard bein a stranger
Ain’t it hard losing your cool
I ain’t no bard but let me tell you
I’ll make mistakes but I’ll make it through
Acquistioner I was but the grifter he wasn’t far
“Officer I must confess I did transgress but hardly”
Standing in the sun he simply said
“What can be done”
Slack-jaw I was cause then he vanished into nothing
Oh grievances
You gave it up for them
You meticulously abided by me
Oh grievances
You gave it up for them
You meticulously provided for me
So play by the rules
You goddamn fool
|
||||
5. |
Stuck Again
04:01
|
|||
|
Well I’ve been led into the fight
Singing ‘bout how I don’t mind
Been bounced around from side to side
But don’t you close those hard eyes
An oral prostitution shifted the illusion
Soldiering confusion with ragged words diffusing
Compromised perception upholding your pretensions
That thick-skinned intervention was our great invention
Don’t feed it
Don’t feed it
You’re gonna need it
You’re gonna need it
Don’t feed it
Don’t feed it
You’re gonna need it, need it, need it, need it
Soft in the country home so why
Don’t you wander towards those concrete miles
Away from the flesh you so despise
Bloodlust they need to keep inside
The lanes you’re choosing covered in ash and booze and
Sleazy eats left musing of love of disillusion
So fear the entertainer
Hold your own retainer
Stick to guns you’re using
You can without shooting
Don’t use it
Don’t use it
You’re gonna lose it
You’re gonna lose it
Don’t use it
Don’t use it
You’re gonna lose it, lose it, lose it, lose it
Lose it
Lose it
Lose it
|
||||
Diet Lite Milwaukee, Wisconsin
We're Diet Lite. We're alright.
New album, INTO THE PUDDING, out now!
If you like Diet Lite, you may also like:
Lowdown Ways
by DADDY LONG LEGS
The NYC trio push their blown-out garage-blues sound into new territory, on both reinterpreted classics and originals.
go to album
Roaring guitar pop big on blistering riffs and candy-coated vocal melodies.
go to album
Fueled by serrated riffs, raspy vocals, and rubbery basslines, the Aussie punks' latest pushes garage rock to rowdy extremes.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Oct 21, 2014
go to album
Noise pop at its finest from this rambunctious Melbourne group that thrives on louder-than-loud guitars and belted-out vocals.
go to album
Tender indie rock from Boston artist Tiffy, with pillowy synths and heavenly vocals.
go to album
Death is Nothing to Us
by Fiddlehead
Boston band featuring members of Have Heart and Basement take their earnest, motivational post-hardcore to thrilling new heights.
go to album
