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This Town Needs Guns made a short video of their trip to Australia for Harvest Festival, made by friend Chris Baker. It features a track off our new album, and also something from our new electronic album entitled ‘People Also Like Fudge’ (…ok, maybe not).
New This Town Needs Guns Album coming on Sargent House this Fall 2012 !!!
Remember,
a glare from the town crier,
then two winks past the shake of a speckled dogs tail.
not just any ole doggy tail.
only a perfect and precisely profound pick of the pack puppy tail
promising a plethora of pretty speckled spots.
lastly.
most importantly.
the feature event.
The Final Fall of Sunshines Flirty Fair Days.
limelight leaves.
each there own emotions,
perform practiced,
ever-ageing productions.
beauty effortlessly distracts,
disguises,
and blinds,
self aware minds.
(In truth, those are scarce and rare to find)
the blue and purple pained cold
tucks away in pockets.
lying like loosely lost coins.
plotting and planning
sneak attacks on our poor bare skin.
im not weak this winter year.
that’s what I speak in my mind.
I’ve grown tired of coming off helpless
and hearing the same whine,
from weak willed quitter’s.
so this winter,
Ill stay out exploring.
searching and seeking all of the
cuddly
soft
fuzzy
things I can find.
Indulging myself with only the finest of things.
It’s been a long while since I’ve cared for myself.
somehow its been mistakenly ignored.
…I know, I ask myself the same thing.
my god!! I can’t wait.
It will take me a moment to gather myself.
and a moment is all it will be.
ill most likely skip, or hop.
I can’t decide.
ill skip swifter than ever before.
without my fucking dreary ass bag full of worries, lies, and fears.
after my adventures Ill return home.
to this small quaint cozy room,
to become a bumble of smiling fluff and warmth.
at least this is how i dream it now.
the magnificent thing is
I can dream,
I can dream,
I can dream.
and you can’t touch them.
sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think,
i’m not going to make it, but you laugh inside
remembering all the times you’ve felt that way, and
you walk to the bathroom, do your toilet, see that face
in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my, but you comb your hair anyway,
get into your street clothes, feed the cats, fetch the
newspaper of horror, place it on the coffee table, kiss your
wife goodbye, and then you are backing the car out into life itself,
like millions of others you enter the arena once more.
you are on the freeway threading through traffic now,
moving both towards something and towards nothing at all as you punch
the radio on and get mozart, which is something, and you will somehow
get through the slow days and the busy days and the dull
days and the hateful days and the rare days, all both so delightful
and so disappointing because
we are all so alike and so different.
you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous
part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as mozart works
his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and
out through your shoes.
it’s been a tough fight worth fighting
as we all drive along
betting on another day.
This Town Needs Guns made a short video of their trip to Australia for Harvest Festival, made by friend Chris Baker. It features a track off our new album, and also something from our new electronic album entitled ‘People Also Like Fudge’ (…ok, maybe not).
New This Town Needs Guns Album coming on Sargent House this Fall 2012 !!!
Remember,
a glare from the town crier,
then two winks past the shake of a speckled dogs tail.
not just any ole doggy tail.
only a perfect and precisely profound pick of the pack puppy tail
promising a plethora of pretty speckled spots.
lastly.
most importantly.
the feature event.
The Final Fall of Sunshines Flirty Fair Days.
limelight leaves.
each there own emotions,
perform practiced,
ever-ageing productions.
beauty effortlessly distracts,
disguises,
and blinds,
self aware minds.
(In truth, those are scarce and rare to find)
the blue and purple pained cold
tucks away in pockets.
lying like loosely lost coins.
plotting and planning
sneak attacks on our poor bare skin.
im not weak this winter year.
that’s what I speak in my mind.
I’ve grown tired of coming off helpless
and hearing the same whine,
from weak willed quitter’s.
so this winter,
Ill stay out exploring.
searching and seeking all of the
cuddly
soft
fuzzy
things I can find.
Indulging myself with only the finest of things.
It’s been a long while since I’ve cared for myself.
somehow its been mistakenly ignored.
…I know, I ask myself the same thing.
my god!! I can’t wait.
It will take me a moment to gather myself.
and a moment is all it will be.
ill most likely skip, or hop.
I can’t decide.
ill skip swifter than ever before.
without my fucking dreary ass bag full of worries, lies, and fears.
after my adventures Ill return home.
to this small quaint cozy room,
to become a bumble of smiling fluff and warmth.
at least this is how i dream it now.
the magnificent thing is
I can dream,
I can dream,
I can dream.
and you can’t touch them.
sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think,
i’m not going to make it, but you laugh inside
remembering all the times you’ve felt that way, and
you walk to the bathroom, do your toilet, see that face
in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my, but you comb your hair anyway,
get into your street clothes, feed the cats, fetch the
newspaper of horror, place it on the coffee table, kiss your
wife goodbye, and then you are backing the car out into life itself,
like millions of others you enter the arena once more.
you are on the freeway threading through traffic now,
moving both towards something and towards nothing at all as you punch
the radio on and get mozart, which is something, and you will somehow
get through the slow days and the busy days and the dull
days and the hateful days and the rare days, all both so delightful
and so disappointing because
we are all so alike and so different.
you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous
part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as mozart works
his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and
out through your shoes.
it’s been a tough fight worth fighting
as we all drive along
betting on another day.
| — | Gamblers All, Bukowski (via henrycharlesbukowski) |
