Now, George was a good straight boy to begin with,
\ but there was bad blood in him someway
\ he got into the magic bullets and
\ that leads straight to Devil's work
\ just like marywanna leads to heroin
\ You think you can take them bullets and leave 'em, do you?
\ Just save a few for your bad days.
\ well...

Well, now we all have those bad days when we can't hit for shit.

The more of them magics you use,
\ the more bad days you have without them
\ So it comes down to finally
\ all your days being bad without the bullets
\ It's magics or nothing.
\ Time to stop chippying around and kidding yourself,
\ kid, you're hooked, heavy as lead

And that's where old George found himself.
\ Out there at the crossroads.
\ molding the Devil's bullets.
\ Now a man figures it's his bullets,
\ so it'll hit what he wants to hit.
\ But it don't always work out that way

You see, some bullets is special for a single aim.
\ A certain stag, or a certain person
\ And no matter where you aim, that's where the bullet will end

I've waited through the wars of winter
\ I've watched the cherry blossoms bloom
\ I cannot wait here any longer
\ I'm leaving at the rising of the moon
\ I know what lies beneath Manhattan
\ I know who's buried in Grant's Tomb
\ I wonder if they'll wait a while to clear away my crocodile
\ I'm leaving at the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
\ It's just the Russian word for truth
\ Your consciousness is not my problem
\ 'Cause when I come home, it won't be home to you

Your Uncle Henry lived in Moscow
\ Your Aunt Ludmilla lived therе too
\ Irina grew up in Wisconsin
\ I'm leaving at the rising of thе moon
\ The final moments in a doorway (The final moments in a doorway)
\ The sacred light of afternoon (The sacred light of afternoon)
\ Something starts to shake the leaves, you tug upon your T-shirt sleeves
\ And shiver 'til the rising of the moon

They always ask me about pravda
\ It's just the Russian word for truth
\ Your consciousness is not my problem
\ 'Cause when I come home, it won

Fuck America

Now this is interesting. Angell is a band fronted by Angell Solberg Tveitan, the son of Ihsahn.

At some point in my youth, I realized most kids weren’t explicitly taught to be a music fan by their parents, like they might be with a sports team. My peers didn’t sing early Who hits at the third-grade talent show, or find themselves too scared to sleep after hearing the Beatles’ White Album played backwards. They weren’t being quizzed on classic song intros by age 10, and debating Dark Side of the Moon vs. Wish You Were Here as the best Pink Floyd album by their preteen years. Other kids didn’t steal their dad’s Dookie and Tragic Kingdom CDs, or lose their shit over a handmade comp of ’60s one-hit-wonders like “Red Rubber Ball.” For a long time I felt this made me special, to have this musical bond with my dad; I knew it was an extension of his love. Later, I came to view it as a passed-down survival skill. I inherited so much from him, and the way we both self-soothe anxiety and depression (mine diagnosed, his not) with pop songs is a coping mechanism for a shared genetic flaw.

online, Wednesday, April 16 at 08:00 PM GMT+1

Not Bonk What I Call Wave: Remixes Vol 2 will be released by Bonk Knob Records!

WEDNESDAY 16TH APRIL - Save the date!

Join us for the live stream at https://party.bonkwave.org/ at 19:00 UTC / 20:00 BST / 21:00 CEST

https://cal.gravitons.org/event/release-party-not-bonk-what-i-call-wave-remixes-vol-2

Short people got no reason
\ Short people got no reason
\ Short people got no reason
\ To live

They got little hands
\ And little eyes
\ And they walk around
\ Tellin' great big lies
\ They got little noses
\ And tiny little teeth
\ They wear platform shoes
\ On their nasty little feet

Well, I don't want no short people
\ Don't want no short people
\ Don't want no short people
\ 'Round here

Short people are just the same
\ As you and I
\ (A fool such as I)
\ All men are brothers
\ Until the day they die
\ (It's a wonderful world)

Short people got nobody
\ Short people got nobody
\ Short people got nobody
\ To love

They got little baby legs
\ And they stand so low
\ You got to pick 'em up
\ Just to say hello
\ They got little cars
\ That got beep, beep, beep
\ They got little voices
\ Goin' peep, peep, peep
\ They got grubby little fingers
\ And dirty little minds
\ They're gonna get you every time

Well, I don't want no short people
\ Don't want no short people
\ Don't want no short people
\ 'Round here

Can you just go home defeated?
\ Take your pride and eat it
\ Crawl back beaten
\ Sources are depleted
\ Can you take the final hit and admit that you were wrong?

Don't even call it even
\ Bleedin' is believing
\ Former well-being
\ We're closing for the season
\ Can you take the final hit and admit that you don't belong?

Beaten six ways to Sunday
\ Beaten six ways to Sunday now
\ You're gonna have to leave it
\ You know you'll never need it
\ Wait til you see what we've planned for you

And its heinous
\ So come on, come on comeupins
\ You really are the star of the show right now
\ It's an estrangement
\ Kinda strange when cliche's are true

Beaten six ways to Sunday
\ Beaten six ways to Sunday now
\ And I am sorry to enjoy this
\ But, what would you have me do?
\ What would you have me do?

Can you just go home hated
\ Half intoxicated
\ Hopelessly outdated
\ And not appreciated
\ Can you take the final blow and know that you fucked up?

Go state the overstated
\ Keep it complicated
\ The over educated
\ Th

Can anyone recommend me some super mellow relaxing jazz?

I've been listening to Space For Two by Oakwood Station and would like more of the same kind of thing before I do it to death!

Thanks :) ✌️