This is a holiday classic about seasonal depression and the awkward anxiety that comes with this special time of year! Yay!

Under My Tree

Oh I feel so alive I'm a robe guy now
I just turned 35 I'm a robe guy now

Slippers on my feet
Sippin on coffee
Terrycloth God, I'm gettin up at 3
And I would never change, if I didn't have to 
That's true, I'm livin life like retired dads do
Damn you're in the presence of a paragon of plushness
And I got another surprise for you under my top robe
It's one more, ROBES ON ROBES ON ROBES ON ROBES ON ROBES ON ROBES ON ROBES ON ROBES ON ROBES

Oh I feel so alive I'm a robe guy now
I just turned 35 I'm a robe guy now

If you really wanna live in a world of ultimate comfort it's so simple baby, here is some literature 
Giving you tools and the necessary things and together we can all achieve our sedentary dreams
Just keep your eyes closed, it's for your own protection or youll wake up in a cold sweat realize it's like inception with robes

ON ROBES

Somebody's never been liquified into jelly and it shows
ON ROBES
Ever since I can remember I've been averse to wearing clothes 
ON ROBES ON ROBES ON ROBES ON ROBES

Oh I feel so alive I'm a robe guy now
I just turned 35 I'm a robe guy now

Robe Guy

Donuts in the Rain

Toll Road

My Weird Gross Body

I Know What You Want

Overwaiter

The Laziest Man in the World

Shoulda Brought Snacks

It's Coming Back

The Snailmate Show

Trash, Baby

Love in the Microwave

Cold Turkey

From the new album "Love in the Microwave"

Written by Kalen Lander & Ariel Monet

lyrics: I know you're avoiding
taking responsibility for your choices
if you've got a problem, then voice it
I've got mouths to feed and holes to moisten
poison in the veins of the chosen one
sitting underneath of a frozen sun
when you cut your teeth on my bone, its no wonder
you're never going to touch your home soil again
live in turmoil and sin
spend and eternity toiling endlessly
spin your absurdities inside a centrifuge
extract the liquid, inject it in to you
… what a rush!
eye to the sky till the sun combusts
all I want is someone to hug
while my grave gets dug. Can you dig it?
Under the gun, above the shovel
under my tongue is a puzzle
there are no subtleties in the jungle
its chew or be consumed, chug or be guzzled
in love with an entity I can't define
with an injury as deep as mine
its only a matter of time before I go the way of the dinosaur

call me the waiter
because I'm always waiting, baby
not because I'm a waiter

i never have to wonder "whats clever"
when I'm up under forever
I've got her tongue in my head, it severs
i feel her eating out my dreams
reading how to be TKLB
I tried to warn her
I tried to point her whence she came
the shit remained
since things ain't been the same
rendering every sentence lame
consider it demented, strange
I hope you're prepared for detention in my brain
a boobie trap for every groupie that I've made insane
a scooby snack for every floozie that smells what I'm spraying
it was a figment to begin with
its hard to follow when your perspective is doing mctwists
burned out and pissed at my own invention
converting every residence i visit to a pigpen
give me the definition of an instant
for instance, I'm known to give it up with no resistance
and though I attempt to preempt it
I find that my foresight could use a prescription
for the sake of fecundity
i shun the sun and unplug the tv
I find myself wondering…
"what could they be doing?"
"what's taking them so long?!"

Call me the waiter
because I'm always waiting, baby
not because I'm a waiter

The Waiter

Marrow

Suture Self

It's been too damn long
since I caught a look at sunshine leaking into my home
searching like a crazy person for a hole I could plug
before I know it I was pumped up and covered in dust
I'm allergic to excitement when its not in my head
to any reason or impetus to get out of the bed
I'm super nervous it occurs to me I'm turning into something
that considers getting ridiculed as similar to loving
I try to convince myself
I deserve something slightly better than hell
and I cry until I hear the disembodied voice of god

I know what you want
but you cant have it
I know what you want
but you wont get it
I know what you want
but you cant have it
I know what you want

It's not long enough
before I notice something sticky dripping onto my rug
I had to take a little taste just to know what it was
next thing I know I'm feral and addicted to blood
I been avoiding the outside world for so long
that the sweetness caught me by surprise, I'd nearly forgot
I'm super nervous its a certainty I'm turning into someone
who is searching for the spotlight at the center of a circus
I try to remind myself
getting out of bed is a detriment to my health
still I rise if just to spite the condescending voice of god

I know what you want
but you cant have it
I know what you want
but you wont get it
I know what you want
but you cant have it
I know what you want
but it don't exist

🌈 your new favorite queer band 🏳️‍⚧️ 🚐 probably on tour 🚐 
_____
snailmatebooking@gmail.com
@snailmate 
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