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"smoke yrself thin" b​/​w "get confident, stupid"

by greg :o

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1.
Anger fantasies and steam, they come billowing out from anxiety dreams where all my dreams fell out from smling cause I ran out of clever things to say. Please respect our neighbors. At the end of the day, I was doing them a favor. And I can hear them mining records while the tired needle drags across valleys of screaming teens who finally found their flag My frame of mind is built on sand and it falls apart like an opening band, but I can hardly hear the vocals over the sound of the blissed out locals, and I can hardly fight the tides of pithy groans and rolling eyes, but I can hear them mining records while the wirey guitars squeal across the decks of record execs who finally found their meal. I dimed the gain and lost control, they said "settle down, it's just rock'n'roll" but I can hardly hear the vocals
2.
They're turning up the lights, your friends have disappeared They've played their finale, there's nothing for you here. You've milked every moment, like oil from the shale, there's nothing left but memories, the backwash in the rail. The same old faces stumble the salted streets to take their places at all the same old seats. It's 8 PM, but it's looking like last call. There's nothing left to see, except for their withdrawal. I've run the bases, you're goddamn right I feel a little wronged, this nauseous stasis, you've missed your flight, you're right where you belong. There's a lease on your emotions, with no security but the dust will never settle enough for you to see That every road is open, that every corner's free, so as long as you are broken, you may as well leave.

credits

released February 21, 2018

Ben Grigg on Bass
Peter Reale on Drums

Recorded by Dave Vettraino at Public House Recordings in the spring of 2015
Mixed by Greg Obis
Mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service
Artwork is a painting by my uncle Terry Barrett

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greg :o Chicago, Illinois

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