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Old Man Yells At Cloud

from If You Can Hear This by Dug & Happy Tooth

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lyrics

(Dug)

Rap C-SPAN.
Leave in a police van.
Pirate viral idle ideals,
jam with a neat band.
Applaud fraud baby.
Nobody gets me,
the world's cold
like the delicious refreshing taste of
fuck that nevermind. (PEPSI)
Another pornographic
fantasy anthem about how you can quit your job.
And I'll retire at 30, dead,
a roadie for the Dirty Heads.
Kickstarter my heart,
I've got some references you'll recognize.
I'll sweat respect to death
and buy some eyebrows that look less surprised.
Aphorisms,
Lizzy Marie.
That's the queen of England.
Doesn't matter.
That no, no, not the dog from Up.
No I mean Dug the rapper.
Like, lead balloons at parties
for the bands that Zeppelin ripped off.
Or how everybody thinks
some ex-prison guard is Rick Ross.
I hate labels.
There's theft detectors under them.
And peeling them once
stuffed under my sweaters
getting cumbersome.
Photoshopping coupons,
it'd be illegal for me to advise that.
So I didn't, if it works,
be nonspecific when you write back.
We gotta stop being honest with ourselves.
Submit to Spotify.
Give college the ole college try.
Or make millions just being an awesome guy.
From now on it's survive or die.
Laugh and cry, redact, deny.
Try to act adult and teach adults
how to do more than act alive.
I hate labels.
I don't wanna know what I'm eating
thanks.
Tried cooking for myself
which just meant adding weed to pizza cake.
I'm a fascinating disaster
masturbating to tapes of it afterwards.
Making rappers nervous or was that
maybe just getting on rappers nerves.
I'm taciturn, like I don't really know what that word means.
Let me borrow your mind.
I'm an Email Model Ship.
Sending awful pics of tomorrows design.
Like, hey, wake up.
Everything's broken, discuss.
Trust is a kind of fund and we don't have enough.
We've had enough.
It's venue to venue.
And it never ends like Shenmue.
Til I rent myself to pay the rent.
Or find some comfy bench dude.
Cause you can't stop the party.
We wrapped the bar in barbed wire.
And our tour was so hot, well,
it caught Happy Tooth's car on fire.
So now we run in Columbus,
cause we can't afford bikes.
But we're not running Columbus.
That's probably Lydia Loveless.
Or the Devil Doves,
with special love to everyone
who's band names hard to rhyme off of
that still knows we're in an endless debt to them.
And vague complaints for condo honchos
cleaning up our dirty town.
And ruining it for residents
and shutting fucking Bernie's down.
I hate labels.
As much as I love indie acts.
That bar belonged a bar ago
when I could focus on bringing dizzy back.
Nothingness, yeah gimmie that.
It's all that I ever needed.
If only for the simple fact
it's easier to write that cynic crap.
Then to hug abundant sun lit summet
hung with names of mountain climbers.
My names only on watch lists.
I didn't mean literally set the town on fire.
It's just an expression.
People need love and protection.
But not from unchecked henchmen
that wanna club and repress them.
I hate labels.
Matter of fact I hate a lot more than that.
But this song was getting depressing.
So I figured I'd bring the chorus back.
Hordes of cats, distorted facts,
and other things you can snuggle with.
Enough to forget a troubled past
or care how long the bubble lasts.
When they privatize the sidewalk
my chalk will be spraypaint.
Signed, "Basic Causality."
Colorful,
the way the days ain't.
Cause everybody knows
the way I say the way it goes, goes.
Money talks, I talk louder,
I'm completely broke though.
Pause to toss the baton on
to the empty space behind me and
sing a song for dead, but then,
for the dying man with a fighting chance.
When the nineties finally find me,
I'll be hiding in the wilderness.
Teaching grizzly bears swear words,
and warming my hands with your syllabus.
Doing everything in my distaste for power
to keep the property values low.
So when I'm blasting Kiss,
and I don't like Kiss
you don't have to ask.
Cause now you know.
Fuck em if they can't take a joke.
Wait, don't fuck em if they can't take a joke.
I take all my advice from song lyrics.
It's not clear if I care how my days will go.
Cause I'm not ready to spend the apocalypse
trading stocks of it, but I'll rock with it.
Cause I'm not equipped to unlock the cockpit.
Or stop the shit. Just document, or ignore.
Like I still believe in record stores,
and metaphors, and ends to wars,
and holy shit guys I'm just not hip I guess.
Nor is the majority of popular opinion.
Which has never counted for shit I guess.
It's attempt the daring until we're dead and buried.
It's all temporary bliss at best.
But I get it, we're all to credit dependent
to sweat it, forget it, nevermind.
Cause it's live as if you'll never die,
and be remembered as if you'd never died, right?

credits

from If You Can Hear This, released March 8, 2016

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Dug & Happy Tooth Columbus, Ohio

"The Signal Glittering Inside the Storm is not the Dug & Happy Tooth album that you’ll want to throw on at a party, but it is an emotional and personal album you can put on your headphones and get into some shit with. Sometimes that’s just what you need, and the Columbus duo are there for you in 2020." - Scratched Vinyl ... more

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