Lyrics:

36 beers is where it begins.
Then the bottle of vodka you like to make love with.
And I'm one of "those" guys telling you "don't!"

'Cause it's 6 o'clock and you're drunk.
And you fell asleep in the tub.
You drove me to school -- you were drunk.
You think you make sense when you're drunk.

But let me tell you 'bout that:
it just makes you fat,
and blurs all the things that you love.

I try to steal your beers,
and make you feel weird, 
but nothing is ever enough.

You made me sneak vodka into the Islanders game.
You think things are different, but, you know, you're exactly the same.
Don't know what you're scared of.Why do you run away?

Guess you're just a picture of the perfect Rockaway life
because you can't form a sentence on a fucking Tuesday night.
It occurs to me that you're a parent, and that shit ain't right.


'Cause it's 6 o'clock and you're drunk.
And you fell asleep in the tub.
You drove me to school -- you were drunk.
You think you make sense when you're drunk.

But let me tell you 'bout that:
it just makes you fat,
and blurs all the things that you love.

Are you looking for something? 
Are you look for yourself?
Here's a hint: check the floor in the bathroom.

You say I'm young, and I am.
But at least I'm a man,
and not a fool hiding from the truth in the booze.

'Cause it's 6 o'clock and you're drunk.
And you fell asleep in the tub.
You drove me to school -- you were drunk.
You think you make sense when you're drunk.

But let me tell you 'bout that:
it just makes you fat,
and blurs all the things that you love.

You know, I'd do anything 
to make you see it my way,
and I know that nothing's enough.

But I would understand 
what you make in your head
because for you, I got nothing but love.

Backstory: This is about the struggle of loving my dad even though he is an alcoholic. He is a great guy, he has a great job, and people love him -- but it hurts that the only time I can count on him being sober is at work. I've tried to get him to change over the years but I think he can only change himself, and I love him he even if it feels like he doesn't love himself.

36 Beers

Lyrics:

When I was a little kid, I wanted a doll for Christmas.
My dad said no, and probably thought I was gay.
So he put me in hockey because that's what boys play.
Little kids are made of love -- I didn't understand that day.

Inside we're bare, made of light and heat and love.
Outside we're scared. We turn to concrete and kill bugs.
And it's a lie. 
It's a lie. It's just a way to run and hide.

Because no one accepts anyone.
And I forgot how to cry. 
And it's it's impossible to see without water in your eyes.

Then in the fourth grade I wore the wrong socks.
And I was a loser because I didn't know what "cock" meant.
And in high school, I didn't just fuck girls
only because pressure is the language of the world.

Inside we're bare. made of light and heat and love.
Outside we're scared. We turn to concrete and kill bugs.
And it's a lie.
It's a lie. It's just a way to run and hide.

Because no one accepts anyone.
And I forgot how to cry. 
And it's it's impossible to see without water in your eyes.

And in high school right after my first kiss
my teammates laughed and said, "Tell us when she sucks your dick."
So I tried to kill the butterflies with a cloud of shame.
Poisoning excitement with a fear like acid rain.

And it's a lie. It's a lie. It literally makes people die.

Because no one accepts anyone.
And I forgot how to cry. 
And it's it's impossible to see without water in your eyes.

Backstory: People judge you about the most irrelevant shit. I teach in a high school, and kids always make fun of girls on the softball for being lesbians. Are some of them lesbians? Maybe. Are some not lesbians? Maybe. Does it matter? Only in the sense that it hurts the kids being judged. I find it so funny how exclusive groups of people are and how ignorant people can be of things they claim to love. A lot of this judgement comes back to sexuality; guys are taught not to feel or share emotions for fear of being seen as weak. Girls are taught not to be aggressive because it's too manly. This kind of thinking limits our potential. 



Inside Out

Lyrics:

Life is a video game.
First, you brush your teeth.
Then, you smoke your weed.
Then you do all of the -- exactly. Nothing.

The stereo speaks and you listen.
And you gripe in your mind about your work week.
And you're checking off all the mental homework
because you carry it with you and never feel free.

The TV speaks and you listen.
Bogged down by the smell of dirty dishes.
Shit smells like failure and you're panicked,
laughing at the star that stole your last wish.

Stuck on a merry-go-round.
Bring the payment to the blank-stare horse.
Let him bear your weight for a while.
Spin around, you're dizzy -- but you're in the same place.
Spin around, you're in the same place.

When your mind moves - it's hard to show - 
it's kinda like a rust car coughing up slow.
Then you pick it up into gear.
You and your neurons thinking "I'm out of here!"

Then you dip your head in a sea of words.
It's a fib, isn't it? But it's another world.
And you're lost, and light, a soulful refugee.
When the loan creeps in, you freak again, because life ain't free.

Stuck on a merry-go-round.
I hear you speaking but I hear no sound. 
My ear's distracted by reality.
I tail the piper like a quiet zombie,
oh, like a quiet zombie.
Like a quiet zombie.

Tried to hide it, tried to fight it, tried to clear the air.
Took a lap around the block in just your underwear.
You're smart, and careful, and never off your guard.
That's why the Reaper has a house in your backyard.

Took all the right advice -- wonder when it failed.
And the color of the apartment fades to the color of a jail.
You bolt like a deer when a thought electrifies your hair.
When that bony man comes knocking -- don't wanna be there.

But the soap, the clothes, acetaminophen. 
Bring the payment to the blank-stare horse.
The coins in your pocket --
they hypnotize you while you run.
They hypnotize you while you run.

Lost on a merry-go-round.
Lost on a merry-go-round.
Lost on a merry-go-round. 
Backstory: So, I had been messing with the ukulele for like a year and a half after my friend gave it to me, when one day I decided to write a cover of "Holland, 1945" by Neutral Milk Hotel because I love playing it so much. 4 hours later I had this (and the other song, "Joining the Marines"). I know everyone has personal compulsions, and these are mine: to move, to improve at something, and to express myself, especially through writing. In other words, Writing this song on the uke in this first time I've combined all those compulsions. The lyrics of the song are about be trying to master my own guilt when I sit around consuming stuff when I feel like I should be making stuff, and the spiral of overthinking that accompanies that. 

Merry-go-round

One of my favorite Neutral Milk Hotel songs! I absolutely love the lyrics.

Cover: Neutral Milk Hotel "In The Aeroplane Over the Sea"

Yamming on my ukulele about life. Enjoy!!!

Folivora