No Bird Sing's 1st Album. Written by No Bird Sing. Vocals by Joe Horton. Guitars by Robert Mulrennan. Drums by Graham O'Brien. Additional production by Graham O'Brien on tracks 1,6 & 11.  Mixed by Adam Krinsky. Mastered by Greg Reirson.

02 Devil Trombones

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛༛  

ℰ𝓎ℯ ℊℯ𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁ℯ𝒹 𝒯ℴ𝓃𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓃ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝓃ℴ𝓉 ℴ𝓃ℯ 𝓉𝒾𝓂ℯ 𝒷ℯℯ𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁ℯ𝒹𝒶 𝓅𝒽ℴ𝓃𝓎. 

𝙸𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 type-a-𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝙽𝚎-𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍. you know the type-a-shine! right? well Ive left to write whats left of the rights that the left writes for that left-handed loony life. leftovers are right under my left nut. WHAT! WHAT! IDGAFuuuuuuck. (actually Ive been known to give too many FuCKS and hella hella god-DAYUMNS!

𝕀𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕒 𝕝𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕠𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕪𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕝 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕎/ 𝕓𝕖𝕕𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖, NOPE! ℕ𝕒𝕨𝕨 to the NAWW, 𝕄𝕪 𝕄𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕥 only ℍ𝕠𝕥𝕋 𝔽𝕀ℝ𝔼, 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖𝔻 wiggity-𝕎ℍ𝔸ℂ𝕂-ass 𝔻𝕪𝕝𝕠𝕟 "𝕥𝕙𝕖 Diddy-𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕣𝕪𝕕𝕖𝕣" while simultaneously at light-speed had flying anal beads 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕕 𝟚𝕡𝕒𝕔 𝕣𝕙𝕪𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 - "𝕋ℍ𝕌𝔾 𝕝𝕪𝕗𝕖 𝕋𝕀𝕃 𝕀 𝔻𝕀𝔼 𝕄𝔽 𝕎𝔼𝕊𝕋∙𝕊𝕀𝔻𝔼"
…. ( well that was until her facing 25 to life not once or twice but at least ninetynine times multiplied  by another number thats prime all because shes the prime suspect for the time spent on amazon prime plotting the murder of every fucking nursery rhyme line after fucking line during her prime) 
dont believe me? fine.
heard of San-Quintin? MF cell-block #six.nine. drop her ass a line.

like Ive already said again and another again yet again - at different times both inside and outside that peanut-shaped head w/ lice that cross lines made of benign type of dyes that disguise questions why plus the lies every booty denies. except EYE. im fine.

where the fuck was EyE? ohhh yeah.

some call me "Toe" while others call me "Knee". The remaining add that shit together and at the end throw a Bee. and not that buzzing little fucker with wings.. Just the letter "B" that stands as the initial letter of a surname OR one initial of three for that buzzing little fucker that seams to grow wings and can see the worlds booty cheeks as well as what life means each and every second of every single day of anyfuckingweek on california king-size bed sheets of LSD  that skipped being cut into tabs and got mixed with at least a google # of gallons of what?? gallons of only the finest highschool chemistry teachers homeade PCP of course! duh! and par for the course is of course instead of that punk ass cherry sitting on top, its got 100% THC oil condensed hard as a MF rock and then doused with that Creep-O looney-toon famous fuck - "Ted Bundy's" own liquid GHB recipe perfected from the 1980's (recommended by all psychopath date-raper-murder-pieces of shit)  all while in the deepest of sleep having mushroom dreams.

you might know me from movies such as:
 "But, Butts, but I cant sing to boney booties"
"lonely island but boning groupie butts"
"I'll bone your mother's butt, but PLZ don't sue me!"

or its a possibility to know me if you are lucky enough to be a one and only true since day zero homay!
'Cuz on Xmas I make damn sure that I hand-make necklaces out of macaroni and sometimes "Kix" cereal  just for kicks for real though! for each and every homie and all that know me no bologna.


oh yeah. one last thing.

I could be Tony B. but there is one thing I would not and absolutely could not never ever fucking see.


abd thats ME SITTING DOWN WHEN I PEE.


RIP ME and my brain a-gain.

Exploring alternative ways to make music with a message but I don't want to take myself too seriously

02 Devil Trombones

nobirdsing