NOTHING HERE IS MADE BY ME, EVERYTHING BELONGS TO WILL WOOD

Love, Me Normally

"Blue Velvet" Reboot Starring Tom Waits (Suburbia Overture 2024 Edit)

Writing
Lyrics: Jon Adams
Music: The Upstart Crows (Aaron Takiff, Adam Becker, Jon Adams)

Instrument Performance:
Vocals/Guitar: Jon Adams
Bass/Key: Adam Becker
Drum: Aaron Takiff

Production: Adam Becker
Mixing Engineer: Adam Becker
Engineer: James Cronier / Adam Becker
Mastering Engineer: Brian Newell aka Lucky Cat Mastering


Housefire

From "Everything is a Lot" by Will Wood and the Tapeworms.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hl5XUM_qoN4

Six-up, five-oh, pigs come, I cop n’ go. 
The blotter shows they got me on the rocks like Galapagos. 
Good luck finding critters creepy as me. They shoulda fried me, I’ll give ya PTSD 
Vodka shots droppin’ down the throat they been stompin’ on. 
Cockin’ guns, lockin’ up, the quotas all for shock n’ awe. 
Drivin’s tirin’, and I been hot-wirin’ to make my get away from the jailbreak riot and 
Cellmates scrapin’ upon the bricks in the basement, 
tryin’ to escape this probation generation- too late! 
Crazy fuckers’ gotta do the time. 
Committed to the mental ward, committing all the crimes. 
I’m alive and kickin’ till the split ends fray. 
Maybe plead insane, guilty, but I’m not to blame! 
I’m a slave to the main vein, sprayin’ on the mainframe. 
Suffering the infrastructure, hoping I can maintain! 
Oh how I know how I go how I go. Ask me a question the answer I know. 
Yes or no options don’t weigh out and so; I don’t ever see the cons and the pros. 

You bare a striking resemblance. 
Some kind of semblance of somethin’ I been rememberin’. 
You appear familiar dear. You look just like my bathroom mirror. 
Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. Oh please, let me go! 
Please police- is it a test? I won’t know till I’m under arrest. 

The drunk-tank’s blood red. Junkie’s gonna relapse. 
Some think punk’s dead, me I don’t believe that. 
Rock n’ roll gatherin’ the moss till I be that lichen-coated boulder, make you slip, 
Bust your kneecap! 
Open on the amazon, hide the cure for cancer. 
I’m Lance Armstrong, you’re the necromancer. 
Slash n’ burn, crash into the 42nd answer, 
all my fellow skeletons adore the army ants here. 
Flies on my eyeballs, scabs on my elbows. 
Heaven knows God’s sittin’ up there like “Hell no!” 
Only one thing comes to those who wait. Is it too late to embrace your fate? 
My death come swiftly and gently to you. 
Mayhem, cry mayday, and oncoming doom. 
Save your convictions, they never will do. What you say’s at least 1/6 billionth true. 

You bare a striking resemblance. 
Some kind of semblance of somethin’ I been rememberin’. 
You appear familiar dear. You look just like my bathroom mirror. 
Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. Oh please, let me go! 
Please police- is it a test? I won’t know till I’m under arrest. 

Am I being detained? Am I under arrest? 
Read me my rights please. I want my phone call. 
Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. Oh please, let me go! 
Please police- is it a test? I won’t know till I’m under arrest.

6up 5Oh CopOut (Pro/Con)

Dyslexia

Tin Man

Sick

Brother I ain't been feeling too good these days
I'm just a lost boy dreaming in a thick malaise
Our eyes were watching God but then I heard the devil say
He's not even here, oh, she's not even here...

Sick

The Upstart Crows

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