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lyrics

Can I get some more ambivalence in the monitors please? I blab into mikes -- it's a social disease. Now I sit here as the house band at Dorothy Parker's prom. There's no easy way out, mom. It's like Vietnam. If breaking strings seems somehow ennobling, take a wrong turn onto Roebling. Can we cut through the machismo with these drums, guitars, and gizmos? (There's no F in kids) I don't want to hear it tonight. (There's no I in team) I'll make it all up tonight. All the rage and flimsy veneer and we bring out the clean version for our folks to hear.

Can I get some more defensiveness in the monitors please? I'm not going to hide my Jacobite sympathies. We got picked on, laughed at, kicked around -- we've got something to prove. We're gonna hang in these halls until we hang in the Louvre. Make machines to throw a wrench in, cap in hand, begging your attention. Mini-mags, start-ups, and reruns, scraping out the bottom of the trust fund. (The money's running out) Maybe we get one more chance tonight. (The landlord's on the phone) We're down to far to get it right. Sgt. Rock forgot how to steer. We bring out the clean version for the label folks to hear.

The clean version is always filthy.

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from I'm Assuming You're All In Bands, released December 10, 2015

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Tris McCall Jersey City, New Jersey

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