Story Behind the Song
Recorded for pennies in a basement, over a day or two, with constant input from Baby Joshua, our patron saint.
Lyrics
Spice the pepper, there's the salt, make me mad, it's not your fault, pick up your room, we've got to go, find the pistols, we're all alone.
the sun is blue, it's just like him, find time to pray, creept under your skin, a thousand sounds, pierce the atmosphere, from the yawning of a legion of cats.
she moves like leopards, something in her eyes, stolen kisses to analyze, pick up your room, we've got to go, find the pistols cause you know we're all alone.
Memory Memory - clear the glass
Rewrite Rewrite - smell the grass
Shake it Shake it - so I can play that game
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