A tongue-in-cheek Southern rock anthem about treating baseball like background noise. Equal parts snack run and sunburn, this track follows a guy who's more interested in peanuts and peace of mind than innings or stats.

The vocals are laid-back with a drawl, the guitars bring that electric twang, and the whole thing leans rock-forward while keeping its fold-out chair roots. Think stadium malaise with a groove.

A Good Excuse for a Bad Picnic

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A Good Excuse for a Bad Picnic (Southern Rock/Country)

What if Cast Away was about getting too high, stranded on your own couch, and your “Wilson” was a greasy pizza box? Dive into a hilariously lazy, meme-fueled anthem for every stoner, snack hoarder, and homebody marooned in their living room. “Cast Away” blends lo-fi chill grooves, beachy FX, and an epic singalong chorus you’ll be humming from your snack fortress. This is the ultimate ode to snack survival, couch quicksand, and surrendering to your inner island castaway. Tag a friend who’s still missing in action since their last pizza run and let the waves of Cheeto dust carry you home. Add to your stoner, comedy, and chill playlists—because snack time is a journey, not a destination.
#LOFI #StonerPop #Anthem #Comedy #MemeSong #ChillBeats #CouchLife #IndiePop #SnackSurvival #LazyAnthem

Lyrics:

Stranded in my living room,
Supplies are running low.
Pizza box for a pillow—
Wilson, don’t let go.

I got shipwrecked on the sofa, marooned since half-past four,
TV remote’s gone missing, my feet don’t touch the floor.
Phone is out of reach, snacks are just a rumor,
Been texting for a rescue, but my group chat’s full of boomers.
Fridge is way too far, my legs forgot their function,
Cushion quicksand’s got me now, this is my last assumption:
If I die before I move, just tell my friends online—
I tried to reach the pantry, but the rug became the brine.

I’m a cast away, lost at sea of Cheeto dust,
WILSON, you’re my only friend, in snacks I trust.
SOS spelled in popcorn, drifting in the den,
No rescue in sight—guess I’ll binge again.
I’m a cast away, lost on Couch Lagoon,
Dreaming of delivery, stuck here til June.

Day six, the light is fading, I hallucinate a snack,
Hear the siren song of pizza, but the driver never backs.
The dog is looking worried, my beard collects the crumbs,
I built a raft of sweatpants, but the TV’s on reruns.
Couch monsters in the shadows, Wilson cheers me on,
He’s a greasy cardboard prophet, I wrote my will in parmesan.
Every time I check my fridge, there’s just an echo and a sigh—
If DoorDash doesn’t answer, tonight’s the night I die.

I’m a cast away, lost at sea of Cheeto dust,
WILSON, you’re my only friend, in snacks I trust.
SOS spelled in popcorn, drifting in the den,
No rescue in sight—guess I’ll binge again.
I’m a cast away, lost on Couch Lagoon,
Dreaming of delivery, stuck here til June.

Drifting off on the ottoman, see visions in the screen—
Taco Bell horizon, a cheeseburger submarine.
Wilson rides a dolphin, waving crusts like flares,
A pepperoni sunrise, snack ships everywhere.
But then I blink—it’s gone,
The credits rolling on and on.

I’m a cast away, lost at sea of Cheeto dust,
WILSON, you’re my only friend, in snacks I trust.
SOS spelled in popcorn, drifting in the den,
No rescue in sight—guess I’ll binge again.
I’m a cast away, lost on Couch Lagoon,
If I ever escape, I’ll come back soon.

So if you find me missing, don’t bother with the search,
Just check beneath the pizza box,
That’s where I built my church.
Me and Wilson, living out our days—
Cast away on couches,
Lost in lazy haze.



Cast Away

Flinch, Then Ignite:  https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/shiitakeproducts/flinch-then-ignite

I built Shiitake Products because the world needed a home for beautiful nonsense and soul-splitting truth.

- Sometimes that looks like a dancefloor meltdown at 2am.
- Sometimes it’s a button that says “Mildly Okay Human.”
- Sometimes it’s a whispered hymn to grief.

It’s all real. It’s all me. This is my multiverse—and you’re invited.

Here, AI collides with human emotion to create music that actually means something.
From dark trap bangers to cinematic alt-rock anthems, from emo-folk confessionals to glitch-satire ballads—every track is a story, a mood, a moment.
Not built for algorithms.
Built to feel.

🎧 Genres? Trap. EDM. Alt-rock. Rap-rock. Folk. Comedy. Chaos.

🧠 Themes? Rage. Love. ADHD spirals. Existential dread. Healing. Heartbreak. Hope.

🎯 Mission? To punch through the noise—and hit something real.


🔥 Want your story turned into a song? I do that.

🎁 Every listen helps fund more sonic experiments, more weird merch, and more beautiful noise.

🔗 Links:
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🍎 Apple Music: music.apple.com/us/artist/shiitake-products/1766960367
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🌐 More chaos: shiitakeproducts.com

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See phrases.pub for lyrics, licensing, and a full, searchable catalog.

Phrases and Phases Publishing is a one-man label, archive, and reality-refraction field. Founded by J. Adam Walters - lawyer-turned lyricist, satirist, and architectural dropout from polite society - it's the home for songs that shouldn't exist, poems that go to far, and fictional universes with better paperwork than the Library of Congress. 

From folk elegies to parody rap to theocratic cartoon trauma epics, everything here is written by a human who uses AI as a collaborator and instrument rather than an outsourced brain, and finished only when it reaches a space where laughing hurts, or hurting laughs.

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