Pensive Predator (mix)

Feels like these four walls are caving in 
And that's an understatement 
Living through a phone call, trapped within 
These pre-made arrangements 
Is there a crime to report? 
Takeover's unraveled 
This time be a good sport and 
Bite the bullet 

Well, there's nothing like your body on the outside 
You've made it your hobby not to be outsized 
No one can be happy 'till that bed by the window is filled 

Fragile side 

Couldn't help but notice your character's 
Unsavory resemblance 
Retrospection's pensive predator 
Independence 
What is the essence of your struggle? 
Is vengeance too sweet to nuzzle? 

Cut it with the bullshit 
Be a man, a human body 
You know I don't believe in your promised land 
Like you believe in mommy 
Well there's nothing like your story 
If you wanted to pass the time 
But now your life is boring 
And I don't have the time 

We can go on pretending, but that bed by the window will get you...

Pensive Predator

"The Island Song" by Yard Art

What if I found a way 
Your sea-foam green undertow
Another mistake for the gatekeepers
To keep track of 
I'm tired of chasing you all over town 

But if you'd stay a little bit longer 
What if you'd stay a little bit longer? 

Am I trudging on slowly? 
Trying to find a reason to get out of 
This hole you've dug yourself into
In the sand 
Am I dreaming again? 
Listening for
The wayward clap of your hands 
Again, again, again, again 
...
We have not a moment to waste 
Can you remember the taste? 
I've hit every light down this street 
Maybe that's why you don't remember me

Island Song

The Island Song

Cameron Schultz - Guitar, Lead Vocals
Nate Sell - Guitar
Grady Douglas - Bass Guitar, Backup Vocals
Matthew Blevins - Drums, Backup Vocals
Marcus King - Artwork

Lyrics Written By Cameron Shultz

Mindwipes - Demo

Jazz No. 4 - Demo

I am still living by your words 
Time after time 
Life afterlife 
Returning fire all alone 
I could use some ammunition 
Shaking your finger "No, no no!" 
Show me the way, baby, help me think this through 
A stenciled pattern on the wall 
Is all that is left 
I am still counting steps, right 

I'm fine 'cause I mind 
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
Do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do, do
(Do-ing continues) 

La, la, la, la, la, la, la, laaaaa
Oh brother, help me our mother burns 
I know you're fair, but you need to be repaired 
So I let you slip away 
Right through my net 
I am still catching my breath, right

Fine (Demo)

I wanna know what makes you tick
I wanna play the game of love 
It's not enough to just be slick 
You've got to dress the part, and play against the odds
Can I put you inside a matrix? 
Show you all my colors and find a middle-ground 
Encapsulated by a profile picture
After-all we change and names are just a pain to remember 

I wanna know what makes us stick 
I'm done dancing around the doves 
I no longer just feel the kicks 
When I get dressed up I might as well evolve
It's contagious to wanna predict 
To figure out what you are without spreading your wings
Locked up by that profile picture 
Data lives forever and shame is just a stain on your memory 

I'm irrational 
You can't predict me 
It's all just game theory 
So cold and empty 
I know you might not understand 
But please don't bury your head in the sand now

Game Theory - Demo

Summer breeze 
Colder than it seems 
Summer breeze 
A whisper in my dreams 

It perforates white linen drapes
As golden rays push on through 
A heaviness sticks to me 
Sand caught between pressed sheets 
Oh baby you,
You are my, my Navy Blue 

It hurts to wait counting the days 
Love is delayed, my time to waste
A feeling of emptiness surrounds me 
If only walls could talk to tell you, they'd say
Oh baby you, 
You are my, my Navy Blue 

A fog's rolling in (Fog's rolling in)
Over choppy seas 
No wind in your sails (Wind in your sails) 
Lighthouse has no light
Skipper jump ship (Skipper jump...) 
No North Star in sight 
You, Youu

Oh baby you,
You are my, my Navy Blue

Navy Blue

I try to swim free 
I'm just a fish in the big, big sea 
Throw me down a line 
Then I'll try to bite your bait tonight, 
Your bait tonight
Alright

I try think the ocean's telling me
I've got to find a way to swim free
You throw me down a line 
Then I'll try to bite your bait tonight 
Your bait tonight 
Alright 

She loves it, 
It's so great 
The smell of 
Fresh cocaine in the mirror 
Get me the hell away from here!

Little Fish, Big Sea

Grease the hinges 
Lubrication
Open the doorway 
Ventilation 
Corrupt controller 
Deserted landscape 
Moving towards her 
Waiting to escape 
Blame the poolboy 
For stepchildren 
Silently destroy 
T.V. westerns 

Makes me weak 
Lost the words to speak 

One-way vision 
Lost the highway 
Rear-view mission 
Doing it my way 
Slim pickings 
Jackrabbits
Squatting and sitting 
We'll make it a habit 

Renegade
This is the last time you'll ever get away

Don't you know it's rude? 
To stare across the table waiting for your food 
Ooh, ooh 
Is he coming down on you? 
Don't you know it hurts me to see you bruised 
Ooh, ooh 

Well I'm just spectating 
I'll watch you sit atop your things 
Far away inside 
You're scattered and tossed aside 
That's just what we'll talk about when we're sober 
What will we talk about when we get older? 

Grease the hinges 
Lubrication 
Open the doorway 
See a renovation 

I still know how to love 
Those friends you knew grew up so tough

Lubrication

There's something pathetic hidden in your cries 
As we backtrack for miles 'cross the sands 
An indifference to the plight of most 
Gets me where I'm feeling like a parking post 

They were asking for ya, but the streetlights shut us down 
Everyone's a stranger, and the airwaves scream it proud

We turn our backs on this age-old media machine 
Your smoking gun, the cause for which to bleed 
Alright! 

Another television rigged to blow 
At the first sign of disillusioned youth 
Overstimulated, raw, and hopelessly fixating 
Don't lose your footsteps in the snow 

They were asking for us, but the desktop shut us down 
Everyone's in danger, you  won't hear it 'till it's loud

Franco Garbanzo

Oh la la la la 

Met a girl,
She knocks at your door 
Keep a smile Grady,
It's what she'll entertain you for
She's bringing baggage over, 
But I don't mind
When it comes to baggage baby, 
I've got a little bit of it

She asks if life's moving fast,
But I don't know 
She asks if life's moving fast, 
But it seems slow 

Ohh la la la la

Met a girl, 
She comes on 
Just close your eyes my son, 
Just sing along
She's bringing bad news over,
But I'm blind and I can't see
Suffocate me down to where -  
I can breathe

Jazz No. 4

Mindwipes and missing patterns 
Steady as she goes, darling 
Some things are not for debate now 
Trying to let go of our children 
Is all really "as-it-goes?" 
All you seem to see are your ghosts

Ahh, ahh, ahhhh

Forgot, forgotten images 
You made, you made the pilgrimage
Now you've just got to, now you've just got to erase 
Can we really hide ourselves inside 
An invisible place in time 

Ahh, ahh, ahhhh

Mindwipes

Yard Art is group of 4 musicians: Cameron Schultz, Nate Sell, Grady Douglas, and Matt Blevins. All of whom currently reside in and perform in Phoenix, Arizona. 

The music of Yard Art is focused on rich instrumentation and clever songwriting as opposed to a definitive genre or style. The members each bring a distinct style of their own to the creative process ranging from jazz to pop-punk to blues and alternative rock. Without compromising any particular influence, the quartet manage to distill a distinct blend of rock n' roll that preserves the primitive energy of the early rock genre with traces of modern alternative, DIY sound, and psychedelia bleeding through. 

In their primary form lead vocalist, Schultz, wails above Sell's intricately woven guitar melodies and Blevins' relentless drumming (songs like "The Island Song," "Lubrication," and "Franco Garbanzo") while Douglas glues together the pieces on bass. However, Schultz and Douglas are not shy of trading spots at the mic, on guitar, or bass. Songs like "Jazz No. 4" and "Little Fish, Big Sea" find Douglas at the helm on lead vocals and rhythm guitar while Schultz settles in on keys, bass, and/or harmonies. Sell even lends his whispery tenor to the jazzy ballad "Navy Blue." Throughout their shows, the bandmates are rarely cemented to a particular role as they dive through their diverse catalog of alt rocky tunes, and often leave listeners riding-out the sepia-toned, retro wave emanating from the front of the room. Whether you are listening to them over a pair of headphones or on the barroom floor, you are sure to find yourself energized by their vice-like grip on instrumental and vocal narrative. 

Such a wide range of influences and postures produces a unique take on rock n' roll that's sure to stick in your head, and at the very least have you tapping along. As they often say closing a show, "Much love, thanks for listening... And tip the bartender!" 

- Mitty Waynes (fan, friend, and writer)

Yard Art

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