The dead are infused with sensational groove, and they're comin' for you now, there's nowhere to hide .

And if I said this was a Licorice Cookie type song would I get attacked with hammers

When I'm necromancin', everyone's dancin. no one can stop me, i dare you to try.

THIS IS THE BEST SHIT IVE HEARD IN YEARS I HAVE NEVER BOPPED TOO A SONG THIS HARD

Going to funk my gunk

DEBT COLLECTOR

BAD LUCK!

A Choice of Catastrophes

Impress Your Creators - Tub Ring

Babylon-[ dirt poor robins]

Theatrically combining Big Band & Pop Punk/Surf Rock with a Latin Sway, Bear Ghost are tapping into Weezer's ability to create endlessly youthful Pop Rock success in vampire form.

Grab The New Merch : https://bit.ly/RiversIsAVampireMerch

Rivers Is A Vampire (feat Dan E.T.)

Dirt Poor Robins - Enchanté

Jinimy

Jiminy

Vulture

Red Moon by Will Wood and the Tapeworms from Everything is a Lot. ©2015

Red, red moon. Keep on rising. 
The sunset soon indeed will bleed in my horizon. 
The crescent rests, tethered to the west. 
Waxing to the rhythm writhing in my chest. 
That crack between the watercolor sky and sea is the 
corner where you’re born in the mist. 
I might deride the tide, ‘cause I’m pulled as it pools about my feet. 
Towards your stolen light, while you’re holding my slight gravity. 

Well I walk the equator, chasing the light; little do I know it orbits close behind. 
I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once 
In a red, red moon. I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon. 

Red, red moon. When will your shadows break? 
Tell the truth; what’re you hiding behind that face? 
If matters in then I might space out, 
why can’t I take in what you’ve been putting out? 
Why do I reject while you endlessly reflect? 
While you’re projecting your perfection astounds 
Nighttime, please hide my eyes, so the man up there won’t watch me stare. 
Teach me to make moonshine, and we’ll get drunk on the spirit of the air. 

Well I walk the equator, chasing the light; little do I know it orbits close behind. 
I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once 
In a red, red moon. I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon. 

The constellations form infinite paisleys in the sky 
The condensation tumbles down and erases my sight 
And is it in the nightmare map of the cosmos up high? 
Or is it in the signs? Or stranger still, just in my eyes? 

Well I walk the equator, chasing the light; little do I know it orbits close behind. 
I might remember or might assume, but I only turn around every once 
In a red, red moon. I only turn around every once in a red, red, moon.

RED MOON

From "Everything is a Lot" by Will Wood and the Tapeworms.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hl5XUM_qoN4

Six-up, five-oh, pigs come, I cop n’ go. 
The blotter shows they got me on the rocks like Galapagos. 
Good luck finding critters creepy as me. They shoulda fried me, I’ll give ya PTSD 
Vodka shots droppin’ down the throat they been stompin’ on. 
Cockin’ guns, lockin’ up, the quotas all for shock n’ awe. 
Drivin’s tirin’, and I been hot-wirin’ to make my get away from the jailbreak riot and 
Cellmates scrapin’ upon the bricks in the basement, 
tryin’ to escape this probation generation- too late! 
Crazy fuckers’ gotta do the time. 
Committed to the mental ward, committing all the crimes. 
I’m alive and kickin’ till the split ends fray. 
Maybe plead insane, guilty, but I’m not to blame! 
I’m a slave to the main vein, sprayin’ on the mainframe. 
Suffering the infrastructure, hoping I can maintain! 
Oh how I know how I go how I go. Ask me a question the answer I know. 
Yes or no options don’t weigh out and so; I don’t ever see the cons and the pros. 

You bare a striking resemblance. 
Some kind of semblance of somethin’ I been rememberin’. 
You appear familiar dear. You look just like my bathroom mirror. 
Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. Oh please, let me go! 
Please police- is it a test? I won’t know till I’m under arrest. 

The drunk-tank’s blood red. Junkie’s gonna relapse. 
Some think punk’s dead, me I don’t believe that. 
Rock n’ roll gatherin’ the moss till I be that lichen-coated boulder, make you slip, 
Bust your kneecap! 
Open on the amazon, hide the cure for cancer. 
I’m Lance Armstrong, you’re the necromancer. 
Slash n’ burn, crash into the 42nd answer, 
all my fellow skeletons adore the army ants here. 
Flies on my eyeballs, scabs on my elbows. 
Heaven knows God’s sittin’ up there like “Hell no!” 
Only one thing comes to those who wait. Is it too late to embrace your fate? 
My death come swiftly and gently to you. 
Mayhem, cry mayday, and oncoming doom. 
Save your convictions, they never will do. What you say’s at least 1/6 billionth true. 

You bare a striking resemblance. 
Some kind of semblance of somethin’ I been rememberin’. 
You appear familiar dear. You look just like my bathroom mirror. 
Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. Oh please, let me go! 
Please police- is it a test? I won’t know till I’m under arrest. 

Am I being detained? Am I under arrest? 
Read me my rights please. I want my phone call. 
Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. Oh please, let me go! 
Please police- is it a test? I won’t know till I’m under arrest.

Necromancin' Dancin'

Bear Ghost

Recent comments

WillTheKitsune

☆

Ghostly_lemon_shark

sharky!

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