NEWBORN LIFE TEETHING lyrics. mp3.
This is the worst I've ever
handled a situation. I never killed anyone, but I
remember parking my car on Woodstock. The car was so
hot because I was so upset. Heat coming off my
forehead, that one Lifter Puller song blasting with
the windows rolled up and a fucking brick in my hand.
I was going to run right though his screen door for
dramatic effect and shove that brick up his pretty boy
ass.
I got a phone call from this kid, Daniel the other
day. He said he got my CD and this song really got him.
Fuck yeah, it got you. It got my stupid ass too.
THE 'RISKS' INVOLVED WITH WAKING lyrics.
The Real Diego played a show at the Pickle Patch. The band we played with
had a bumper sticker that read, "When was the first
time you realized you were an asshole?" This song is
about that moment. I was throwing up in a hotel room
in Houston after the food poisoning in Albuquerque.
Getting tangled in web of bad women and good lies.
WHO'S GOING TO SHOE YOUR PRETTY LITTLE FEET?
This is a
Woody Guthrie cover as far as I can tell. When I moved
to Portland, the first thing I did was force Ben
Barnett to record this cover with me. I can still
remember the "apartment" on Oak Street. You can hear
the sorrow in its echo. This woman told me that my
"apartment" was used to slaughter and package chicken
and that I should burn jasmine to counteract the
effects of negative spirits. I should have listened to
her, but I didn't. After I threw up, I woke up naked in
the bathroom. I remember the room getting really hot.
I ain't snorting shit anymore.
NIAGRA FALLS lyrics.
This song was written by Carlos
Gutierez. He was the first person that I played with that
ever scared the shit out of me. He's a really great
person and he writes really great songs. I still want to
be him.
300 COPIES lyrics. mp3.
I remember being at Ben Gibbard and Kris K's house. Kind of Like Spitting would spend weekends on their couch when we used to go up to Seattle to fuck with Barsuk.
Gibbard left us a key for the house so we could go out for
a drink. We all got ready, went downstairs, and the
first thing we did was get the key jammed into the
door. Then we decided to break the key. Then we
decided we could figure out a solution to this dilemma
by taking the whole damn lock out. When we did, a shit
load of springs shot out and we knew we were fingered.
So I drove for like two hours with Mr. Brian Grant to
various hardware stores until we gave up and decided
to get the part in the morning. We thought it was
really funny that these boys would come home and their
lock would be missing. I guess you had to be there. As
house guests, we wore ourselves thin and fast.
300
copies is what I figured it would cost to recoup
the record. I was scared that Jensen would lose the farm by
picking up the project. All he lost was good
judgement. And the songs I reference in "300 Copies" are Jugoton
songs. Croatian pop from the '70s. Mainly Novi Fosili,
Dani Marsan, and Oliver Dragovic. I grew up on these
songs and recently found a new love for these
classics. I could talk your ass off about this.
I HAD YOU lyrics.
This is just a dirty little song. Inspired by rude
comments Mike B. was making towards my lyrics. The drum
sample is Ben Barnett at the Cash Money Bros. show
in some basement. That other sound is my friend Missy.
Everybody asks me what kind of keyboard I used. She
has a great laugh and the mic picked it up. She and I took a
great roadtrip once.
NOT NOW, NOT EVER lyrics.
I remember taking a flight out to
LA to calm myself. My girlfriend at the time called me
to tell me this story about jumping into puddles.
Indirectly. That's when I knew it was all over.
YOU SLEEP, I DRIVE lyrics. mp3.
I can't sleep at night. Call me sometime late, I'll be up. I stay up 'til 5am reading
liner notes to records. I was living with a girl who
thought it was a good idea to go to sleep at like
11pm. We lived at the Stark-Brown house. They had jobs.
I didn't want to wake anybody up so I used to drive all
night. My routine was to get a Happy Meal and cross
every single bridge in Portland. The drives usually
ended up in the industrial part of town which always
reminded me of San Pedro. Some nights I would drive into
and up through Washington. Drives always get you thinking. The
longer you drive, the more you think. The longer the
drive, the more places your mind can wander. I used to
take drives like this with my friend Peter. Whenever
he smoked he would roll down the windows and turn up
the heater. He said that it made the winter seem like
summer. I agreed and so I use the same technique. He
passed away in a plane crash along with his sister and
two other friends. I went to see the parents of one of
the boys who passed. His father showed me a roll
of film with pictures of the crew right before the
plane went down. They were having a real good time.
You couldn't really get upset. They were having such a
good time. So I sat there with Darin's dad and we
looked at the pictures for a couple of hours. He said
he appriciated the fact that I took the time to come
over. He told me I was invited into his home anytime.
That was about six years ago. I haven't been back. So this all came flooding back to me in the middle of a drive and I drove back to the Oak Street
apartment which I still had keys for - no one really
lived there anymore. I threw this song together in
about an hour. You can hear the cement walls clearly
in the recording. Anyways, I came home, and everyone
was still asleep. I always thought that my time alone
at night was an alternate life. I used to almost look
forward to it. I'm still trying to find someone to pull
into this alternate life. I hear that girl stays up
all night having interesting converstions these days.
And I think Isaac is a good name for the baby.
ME AND ANDY lyrics. mp3.
This was written ages ago. The Andy I'm talking
about is my friend Andy Harris, a local hero here in
San Pedro. The Real Diego had just returned from tour and I saw Andy somewhere and we took a
drive. I was upset about the tour and I had like
fifty inkstamps on my wrists from all the shows and
all I wanted was to play in a band and I was like, "Fuck
all this."
GLORY! GLORY! lyrics.
I remember being in Komiza late at
night, by myself, and somewhat fucked up. I was walking in
the cold and listening to the guitar track I recorded
for this song just trying to come up with better
lines than, "Let's throw all your money away." It was
hard. And I think toast is humorous. But the original
intent slipped away and overall it's a fuck-off letter
to a good friend.
INK
In this track I was really getting in touch with
myself. I was exploring myself. I still do that.
TONIGHT, TONIGHT lyrics.
This is the first Novi Split song
I wrote. I just got some hot computer program and
wanted to see if it would work. I had no lyric sheet or real focus. I wrote it
after school. I remember going out with a girl at the
time who was uninspiring. I thought that was a good
quality in a person back then. I was working at Wolf
Camera and seeing the most amazing images of child
birth. They come out red and blue. It's a miracle that
they come out at all.
BIG ACTION lyrics.
I hate this song. It wasn't intended to be
released. I mean, I straight stole a fucking Jets to
Brazil sample. I apologize to those guys now. David
Jensen said it wouldn't be a record if this song wasn't on it. You dont argue with that. But it's too damn
optimistic. I dont want people to find out I'm
optimistic.
THIS NEW ROOM lyrics.
This is a really simple little song.
It's about being excited by your immediate future.
Hoping for the best, but being way in over your head.
Not everything is miserable, you fucks. But it all
ended terribly so, you win.
THE NEW SPLIT lyrics. mp3.
God, you were miserable when I wrote
this song. Something about your boyfriend and you
never watching the sunrise together. Never staying up
all night to "talk". And me, I was looking for a
little good advice. Remember that? I stole your
sweatpants when you went to school. School was a waste
of our time. You asked if we could be friends again. I
always answer questions with, "Fuck it." Grant Capes
says thats a bullshit answer. He says it's affirming with
a negative tone. Whatever, Capes. Oh, the song.
Idealistic people should always find themselves
realistic people until that grows old and you don't
get me. Then two idealistic people should find eachother. But no one has any
sense and I fucked all your friends. But then it's
like... well see, there are a lot of people on this Earth.
There are a lot of people with brown eyes. There are a lot of
people who get scared when I get drunk and call them
on the phone talking about, "How do you want to die?" and
"Who's your favorite Wu-Tang member? and "How would you want
your favorite Wu-Tang member to kill you?" And then again,
there's the twenty-hour roadtrip to think about these
things. Or the eight hour working day.
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