Rose Marie

Demo

No one knows
that her pocket book of souls
contains one name she don’t know that she kept

In the midnight moans
In the ringing of my bones
Echo memories of a time when I still slept

So I took two steps
And I looked out to the west
As we stood there slowly dancing cheek to cheek

And I told her there 
at the top of the stairs
Bury me somewhere where you won’t be seen

Four more years in prison
That’s what my baby gave to me
For no rhyme or reason 
She brought me down to my knees

Well that judge said son
Boy you better run
Cause at some point she’ll have to sleep

And she shot him down 
And she poured another round
She said Son you better drink up while it’s cheap

Four more years in prison
That’s what my baby gave to me
For no rhyme or reason 
She brought me down to my knees


The fire in those eyes
Made me briefly feel alive
As they burned these old oaks to the ground


That gut wrenching look
The final chapter of the book
Was finished long before her victory was crowned

In these rattling bones
And oh so lonesome midnight moans
That six shooter played that final sound

Four more years in prison
That’s what my baby gave to me
For no rhyme or reason 
She brought me down to my knees


Four More Years

Out of the dark, dank fog of any given Monday night in Tacoma  echoes a cacophony of deviant delinquency and glorious wrong-doings. A song that sounds like Tacoma. On a Monday.

From the upcoming Balls-Out Super Cobra EP, Sex Wax


Balls-Out Super Cobra - Talk Dirty to Me, Washboard Girl

New track in progress

Lyrics

He died in his home
Lying face down in the road
With a cigarette burnt straight through to his lips

3 days would pass
Between the first scream and the last
And he'd laugh at the punishment that fit

With songs of pain
Only silence harmonizing the lack of rain
A mixture of liquor and blood ran down the drain
Cleansing a man of echoes and stains

Clenched in his hand
The only picture left of them
On the corner of delusion and youth

He hung his head and paid his dues
Presented half a man to you
And as always he had a better plan than the truth

When the final letter came
After 3 straight days of rain
Through the devilish inkstains she could just make out

Those sullen solemn eyes
That seemed to foresee their demise
And weeped just to finally end this drought


A Man Of Echoes And Stains - Demo

Train Run Slow

Stumble And Grow

My Old Drunk Friend

Death don't have no mercy

the sounds of my pedalboard. Sample it if you wish, just send me the track you make

An Hour Of Noise

Every single thing I create becomes another black reminder of the things I really hate
Go ahead and take it as hurtful literature, an experimental preview of the just as hurtful future

passive-aggressive teenage bullshit
emotionally enraged kid but of course 
it's true It's all about you

World starvation and teenage pregnancy
The MIddle-eastern conflict, and a fifth of hennessy too
It's all about you,

I bombed the white house when I was 6 years old, at least that's what I'm told from the punk who helped me build the bomb
And now that i have become older, I'll do some heroin and stab my dog all because of my mom

Nothing I write should be taken seriously
I just get high and yell deliriously into
songs about you

Now that I think about it I can just slightly tell
Be careful what you listen to, you might hear some of yourself
And your damage and your yelling and throwing away of clothes
Your accidental college baby made sure everybody knows

about your stress and success and professional images 
judgement of character and political correctness too
It's all about you

your fear of freedom and anyone having it
your let down son and hearing him laughing
at you. It's all about you

your OCD and your special insoles
your prominent career and rage-driven insults 
your love of culture and your hatred of mine
It must just be that I am out of line
your sexless life and your distant children
we all know about the world you live in
It's true. It's all about you


Don't Flatter Yourself (Take 1)

shuggaduggadugga chug chug squeeeel bang bang crash

Recorded by DJ Injury
Live from the cock room

BrennenSmith

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