1. |
Knismesis
01:53
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I will pat myself on the back for every good idea I’ve had
I will give myself applause for calming down when I’ve felt mad
But I can’t explain the itch I feel
I don’t know if it’s even real
Doubt that won’t abstain from a fraction of this brain
I ran through my whole life like I was skipping through a film
I jumped from frame to frame, the images were dim
And the video tape jammed in the gears
And it hovered on the thing
That makes me feel the fear, that keeps on lingering
I wear that mark upon my neck
You can’t see it every day
But if I try to keep my head up
There it stays
I wear that mark upon my neck
When I scratch, it makes it worse
Fractured and ever spreading
Like a sick contagious curse
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2. |
The Eccedentesiast
03:08
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Publish my thoughts to no one
Here’s a thought I had when I was young
Too tired to think of something new
Too bored to think of something to do
The court will read the record
The prosecution and defense will rest
I’ll take a seat to the left of the judge
And get it all off my chest
Turned on the podcast
Said a little wish
Took a trip to the waterfront
To see if I could visit a fish
There is no rhyme or reason
To force a half-assed smile
I think I’ll hide in the cupboard
And stuff myself for a while
Lock me up, read me the rights
Give me a place to sleep at night
Grin I may, grimace I might
No amount of teeth will show me the light
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3. |
Lalochezia
02:47
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You find my obscenities amuse
Well I deliver them like prayers
Eyes up into the icy heavens
Voice trapped in thick air
Set up my sentence like a séance of sin
Try to keep my hands steady
Prepare a banquet of verbal oblivion
Get your chakras ready
Back out into the open road
Drive through the country like a wildfire
Free as a bird, free as a breath
Spitting syllables that would warrant death
I feel I’m risking self-immolation
A partner will provide
They’ll put my lips to the gas tank
And light me up inside
There is no need to truly burn my skin
There is a need to quench a burning within
Strip myself bare and look towards the moon
Compose a gift, a minor moribund tune
Filled with the words all human ears should fear
Even those with lives of guilt and hate
This kind of talk is what pumps my engine
What turns the wheels, what slams the brake
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4. |
Sphallolia
03:51
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As I talk I watch your brain cells die
As you organize my facts in your mind
These shallow devilish tricks I play
Confuddle everything I say
I can’t deny you find me strange
I find no reason nor rhyme to change
I won’t take it under review
I won’t become someone new
I have played the fool before to fool myself
Taking on a fresh identity my body rejected
Cold sweats and convulsions, I was hanging on
‘Til I moved on to who I am
I feel you burning out like a star
Your head exploding way out far
But I feel such a sense of calm
I know my head, my hands, and arms
And if you can’t give me the time
I know I’ve got a long lifeline
I’ll slide on down into its end
No I won’t change, but there, I’ll mend
I have played the fool before to fool myself
Taking on a fresh identity my body rejected
Cold sweats and convulsions, I was hanging on
‘Til I moved on to who I am
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5. |
Zenzizenzizenzic
02:40
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My fingers fly much faster than before
My thumbs tap ‘til their tips are sore
Blood blisters pop as I slide from pane to pane
All is fair in this real life virtual game
Continuous, carnivorous, and brutal to the bone
Eyes are on the prize, but they’re plastered to the phone
I blind myself to all else but that validation’s gleam
Give all that I am so that you love all of me
Good chemicals are floating through my skull
Nothing I do ever seems dreary, dim, or dull
This living breathing network built in binary code
Formed from every cell, every atom that I own
Incredible, insatiable, and always out for blood
If I quit, even for a minute, I’ll become undone
Blind myself to all else but that validation’s gleam
I give all that I am so that you love all of me (5x)
I give all that I am so that you love all of me
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The Paris Buns Brooklyn, New York
The Paris Buns is Will Sisskind and his group of imaginary (and sometimes real) friends. Will has a blue guitar and plays folk rock. Thank you.
The Paris Buns recommends:
Cheekface play around with lyrics in a way that rivals Talking Heads, They Might Be Giants, and other greats; surely real ones to watch as the decade rolls along.
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Kiss Yr Frenemies
by illuminati hotties
Sarah makes fantastic music and Illuminati Hotties should have a spot on any indie playlist you make. Illuminati Hotties are one of the gateway drugs into indie punk.
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Jeff Rosenstock helped turn he key in the inspiration machine that gave The Paris Buns its start. Not only is "We Cool?" a sick intro to his work, he's a stand-up guy and a true friend to the scene.
go to albumIf you like The Paris Buns, you may also like:
These tracks are straightforward and concise, never relying on gauzy metaphors to complicate her declarations of love.
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Not Getting What You Want, One Step at a Time
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Getting some serious Dean Wareham vibes from this Texas bedroom project that’s anything but lo-fi.
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Echo Dancing
by Alejandro Escovedo
The legendary Alejandro Escovedo returns with another country-rock scorcher.
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