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KAYA

money will give you wine, 
any kind you'd seek in paradise. 
but i don't know which one that i want... 
i don't know which one that i'd like... 

can't choose when there's a lot, i'm picky. 
for now, i'll stick to taste and tot. 
but i don't know which one that i want... 
i don't know which one that i'd like... 

thought it would be easier though. 
give it a smell, is it just like your old home? 
i don't think i like this type. 
i don't think i like this, i don't think i like this. 

but i'll give you a try. 
if you give me your's, i'll give you mine. 
cuz i just want to like myself, i just want to like myself. 
maybe you'll make me might, 
send those warm chills up my spine. 
but i don't know which one that i want... 
i don't know which one that i'd like... 

thought it would be easier... 

thought it would easy but no, 
thought it would be easy to take you home. 
i could drink a lot, drink a lot, drink a lot of wine. 
i could drink a lot, drink a lot, drink a lot of wine. 

thought it would easy but no, 
thought it would be easy to take you home. 
i could drink a lot, drink a lot, drink a lot of wine. 
i could drink a lot, drink a lot, drink a lot of wine. 

but i don't know which one that i want... 
i don't know which one that i'd like...

Which Wine?

these soft hands have a grip 
of where the body they're a part of's going, 
if it gets up in the morning. 
papa's jeans never fit, 
handed down his looks and nervous ticks, 
but what about callouses? 
he deserves each wink of sleep - white canvas is all he dreams of. 
i dream of bombast abstractions, 
will they be something that he's proud of? 
will i ever receive applause from my creators or history's long thumb? 
will i ever go to bed thinking i earned my good fortune? 

these soft hands on my hips... 
we'll finally dance along to melodies we sing inside our head all day, 
they'll stay with us 'til they see the light. 

until then, i'll give what i got, even if it's not special - 
cuz i learn what i'm not when i'm out of perspective. 
i find i fall in at the very last second, 
but my body makes it hard to leave a lasting impression. 

these soft hands have a grip (i find i fall in) 
of where the body they're a part of's going (at the very last second) 
but my body makes it hard... 

it's what i'm working with, it's what i work toward, 
not what i'm working on, or who i'm working for. 
is it worth it? 

it's what i'm working with, it's what i work toward, 
not what i'm working on, or who i'm working for. 
is it worth it? am i worth it? 

and when it's done we'll dance and dance and dance.

Spirituals

is it my place to carve my name in someone else's tree? 
to try and trim my neighbour's limbs when i don't like the leaves?
cuz the fruit nature makes 
won't always taste the same in two different kitchens! 

is it my way to speak my mind, and argue when you're wrong? 
an off-note slides, it keeps inside, so we can sing along. 
and i know how you feel... 
and i'm sorry that we deal a little bit different. 

yeah we function as brothers would, 
having our fits and holding contempt for each other. 
be careful as i plod beneath this canopy of boughs and leaves, 
cuz these forest friends were hard to find 
if i only brave the woods at night! 

we'll never fuck up as brothers, 
we'll sometimes fuck up as friends. 

is it so bad to want a space where i can be my own?! 
a groove where i can hide away, my forest friends may never know 
how my hymns twist and bend... 
but i love that we can spend an evening singing! 

is it so bad to want a place where i can slow it down? 
a half-time beat protecting me from voices pirouetting 'round. 
and i don't mean to hurt... 
and i'd like to learn to be a bit better! 

yeah we function as brothers would, 
holding a place and saving a tune for each other. 
speak lightly as i plod beneath this canopy of yelps and screams, 
cuz these forest friends were hard to find 
if i only brave the woods at night.

Forest Friends

a new-found flu in animals we never knew were so ill. 
a politician's finger's itchin' to press the button, 
to press the big red button. 

opening windows is closing my doors. 

stopped for directions, then dissected. 
wanna get home on time, and they wanna see my insides. 
i left for work to forward jokes, never thinking bout airplanes, 
never once thinking bout airplanes. 

send this to ten friends and you'll be fine. 
one more clove to keep out the vampires. 

the inbox is empty, i'm sick of waiting around for this message. 
another flash on the screen, another pinch from the dream, 
a reminder to just keep living. 

hey plug, don't wait, your juice is draining. 
there's no outlet for you remaining. 

sick with a virus, and the bug has got me pious. 
i feel it all shutting down, so i look to the clouds, 
maybe they'll remember who i was. 

hey plug, don't wait, your juice is draining. 
there's no outlet for you remaining. 

i'm slamming on the keys 
finding out about diseases 
i never knew that i had. 
minimizing all my lives 
when the screens have turned to blinds for the 
tab 
tab 
tab 
tab 
tab, i can't pay, pay it back, i said! 

>> this moment you are in is the oldest you have been. you'll always feel your age if you're waiting for the end. never mind it, it'll find you, so just keep go go going.

Junk Mail

Wednesday Master 1 (1)

Jacob Switzer - Lead Vocals, Background Vocals, Bass 
Emmett S Webb - Lead Vocals, Background Vocals, Guitar 
Fox Martindale - Background Vocals, Guitar 
Max Bornstein - Background Vocals, Drums, Maracas 

Mike Turner - Tambourine 

Produced, Mixed and Engineered by Mike Turner 
Recorded at The Pocket Studios 
Mastered by Harry Hess 

FRIED RECORDS 2017

Mother To A Brother

negative space

Just try to sample some songs(the main melody is wandering by Hako Yamasaki) 
Dessin de @tfrancois85

Nationatriste

Written, recorded, and produced by Sidney Hilston.
here's a shitty lil demo to a song i recorded over a year ago. it's very important to me so i thought it could be important to you too. maybe it'll resurface in upcoming projects. ;)

I Wanna Be Like You

Recorded, Mixed, and Mastered at Sessionworks Studios by Shawn Lunsford.


Special Thanks to:
Our family and friends, The Brady’s, The Troutman’s,  all the girls Milo’s dated, Shawn Lunsford ,Jordan Green, Delmer Dennis, Petite League, The Walters,  This New Band, Dulcet Magazine,  and Ethan Kelt.


This EP is dedicated to Graham Brady #29,
“You can’t score on #29!”

Susan

Alexandra

Experimenting with the vinyl sound and adding layers of distortion

Enjoy!

Junk Mail

shy kids

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