Tjeerd does not smoke weed--
He says it makes you dull and boring.
Well, I don't speak no Afrikaans,
But I know from exploring glitter:
Diamonds in a poor man's litter
Blind, embarrassed and embittered
Crying in Paris, dead of Winter
Fly to Amsterdam and get fucked!
Take me by the wrist. Feel my pulse
As I make a fist.
Whispering dulcet tones in your ear...
"I'm a terrorist. You're a saint, and a therapist
Listening to bullshit loaded with fear!"
But it's nice just to know you can hear, so
Tell me where to go
Tell me where to go and help me get there now
Sell your stereo
Sell your stereo and scream as fucking loud as you can
Moroccans on the street beat a tattoo
That keeps the sleep away.
Rendering obsolete the plot you brewed
To not smoke weed today
But you are still a wreck, just a shade of a silhouette.
Some things may never get old, but you will.
Get a motorbike and a joint, go to Sloterdijk
Catch the last train to Schiphol while Dru Hill sing:
"How deep is your love for me?"
How sweet is your subtlety?
How cheap are your luxurious frames of mind?
Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?
What To and What Not To Wear?
Cut yourself and wash your hair at the same time.
Bob does not play dice.
So tell me where to go!
Tell me where to go, and help me get there now!
Sell your stereo! Sell your stereo!
Everybody knows nobody needs a friendly sound
To bend around the empty house
You sit in screaming let me out and
Your teenage dreams are ending now
So put the Unrest records down.
from Secret Thinking,
released March 8, 2011
Matt LeMay, Thayer McClanahan, Graham Smith, Ryan Smith