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Live At Club Metronome 4​/​11

by Drive The Hour

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She's waiting On the curb. Stands tall and defiantly Pockets and hoods. We'll meet you halfway there One week from the day after tomorrow What do you say? Everything's five years; Everything's five years; five years too fucking late. Rooftop views; air conditioning units Hip flasks and hiding fast Never ask about accents It's a pointless parenthetical An afterthought with a bitter taste Always take the stairs Too much uncertainty In elevators Yeah In elevators Stand tall and defiantly Pockets and hoods. "It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I did not know what I was doing in New York"
Here's the rules to the game; Live life like we're still eighteen And there's more than one thing a borrowed, black, hooded sweatshirt can mean She says "do you get it yet?"as we're smoking the last cigarette I say it can't be half bad if it makes you smile And we got it all figured out, A life without apologies, a life without doubts; He says "trust me, I'm a technician" And it can't be so strange, with the lives we're constructing… So do you think you're ready? To leave it all? Yeah I think I'm sick It just drags you down So you really ready? To leave this town? I'm in it, man If I can bring them all along
it smells like dirt and yirgacheffe and I'm wondering why i haven't left breathing it in like the crackle of a clove cigarette speaking in tongues; drowning in gin always thank the rythym sections telephone rings communication crackles "are we riding with mary?" we're all right but we panic. we're all right now but we panic. panic. I'm in it for the frantic nature worried about a girl who combs her hair a bleeding lip and an awkward sort of stare broken toes broken toes As the years go by I get stronger carrying your ass up the stairs A burgeoning sense of self dissatisfaction Is this how we live? I don't want to keep a thing from the world But Burlington and I are having a breakup Remember, no matter what happens Always thank the rhythm sections We can always make it up as we go along She pulls up on a green laquered bicycle, I am leaning against the brickwork on a skateboard,Bracing myself upright with a cup of coffee She tucks a long strand of brown hair behind her ear and smiles I reach in my zippered jacket pocket for something of some consequence and suddenly I am struck by the thought of laying in bed with the windows open and the shades drawn not touching, listening to Mission Of Burma and smoking a joint.
"About this much", she said As she holds my head In the space between a thumb and forefinger A quarter inch apart And I try to explain the propensity In the moment between breaths; Smoke drifts over the table I shut my mouth and hold my drink And I'm certain conjecture will be the death of us And I swear, conjecture will be the death of us all Words fail so easily Incomprehension makes an enemy Concocting lexicons That only exist within our hearts My friend, you're still a heartbomb Is your breathing still an art? Caffeinated on your floor for a bed Combing last night from the knots in your hair And I'm certain conjecture will be the death of us And I swear, conjecture will be the death of us all She cuts a strange figure I've got my hands on my hips Shut up and drink.
Desperation; A perfect mix tape no road trips to take Belly up on the carpet, it hasn't stopped raining in thirteen days And a fine layer of dirt Separates me from the animals. "Bastards Of Young" on the stereo Over and over again And I'm getting ready to ask you to leave I'm worried about a dozen kids, writing songs about weather we're all stuck inside stoned out of our minds (Lord if I remember the second verse, I can not find these lyrics) "God knows, We try to do it right"
Road Trip 02:37
there’s a note tacked to my door; scrawled in red ink half an hour later i know the knock’s for me the stars are out and the motor’s running who are we to say no? tell this town you love her before we go we’re running to the sound of the radio we’re leaving to the sound stereo ‘times i’d do most anything; to take me from this place i breath these streets they know my secrets; i wash them from my face this town is old this town is over; this town is my first love i have to believe; it runs through my blood
remember you’re beautiful when they say you’re not! don’t let it break you or make you what you aren’t! ‘cause they can have our blood but they can’t take our hearts they can’t destroy what they can’t comprehend! our hearts are still beating - do you think that’s a threat? ‘cause they can have our blood but they can’t take our hearts our hearts are armed every breath every beat is the sound of the springs in the mechanism winding down but i won’t let go you can have our blood but you can’t take our hearts
the room lights up with cathode flashes bombs burst in tape delay love in a time of war i wonder where you’re at though it’s none of my business love in a time of war i wonder if my brother’s out there, dying for these idiots and i spit when the president speaks there’s a protest out my window; i feel guilty i’m not going outside read the paper read the paper sit by the phone with my coffee
friday nightstuck in Mass. stealing batteriesfor the boombox in the back of the Escort with the broken tape deck two dirty punks passed out cold in the back seat only ever wake to ask "Are we there yet?" Those were the days The ones you always want back Those were the days You pushed 'em so far away Now and then? Who doesn't fear change? We're afraid of getting caught looking back Hey man, where's the show? I don't think we're going to make it on a half tank of gas Plan B: a parking lot and a cheap bottle of wine Bumming for smokes, this is a stupid joke singing the same damn songs again Hey man, I'm calling in sick to work No, I'm serious this time And in the end, It's always you my friends And in the end It's always you (I mean this is for you) Side by side, side by side.
Fuck it All uncertainty You ought to know by now What this means to me And a bottle of wine Is only substitute For the cheapest of conversations For the cheapest of conversations Black leather boots Click click click On the sidewalk Keys to an automobile What have we become? And I can still smell Old blood and Chanel In these old rooms Spit up angels while we work the angles We're so confused Spit up angels Incoherent rambles It's too obtuse fuck it lets have the self destruction of ego because it's making me sick the ways things sit and we burn bright so bright the only natural beauty of the gin in our veins We burn so bright We burn so fucking bright.


Since we never finished the record, here's an old live gig we did that I loved.

Lyrics are taken from my notebooks, so they will probably (no wait, the *will*) vary greatly from what I've written.

Fun game, try and find the closeted trans references. There's more than you think!


released June 1, 2017


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Drive The Hour Burlington, Vermont

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