MP3.com: GUERRILLA TRANSMISSION Song Detail
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GUERRILLA TRANSMISSIONmp3.com/GODZILLA_TRANSMISSIO

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    "crumbs"  Parental Advisorygenre: Hardcore Punk
    lo fi playlo fi play (dial-up)
    hi fi playhi fi play (broadband)
    downloaddownload (2.2 MB)
    email track to a friendemail track to a friend
    add to My.MP3add to My.MP3
    pay attention.
    CD: a.m. radio takeover   Label: na
    Credits: na

    Story Behind the Song
    true story. this song was written after the singer for GT met a lady in an all you can eat buffet line...

    She had Schizophrenia (SKITS-oh-FREEN-ee-uh)---one of the most damaging of all mental disorders---causes its victims to lose touch with reality. They often begin to hear, see, or feel things that aren't really there (hallucinations) or become convinced of things that simply aren't true (delusions). In the paranoid form of this disorder, they develop delusions of persecution or personal grandeur.

    Lyrics
    crumbs
    written by
    guerrilla transmission

    I picked at the pastry with my bare fingers.
    I spoke to the big lady next to me “hello.” “Hello” she said.
    I think she mentioned she was from the Midwest or somewhere.
    I asked “Wonder why there are no utensils?”

    She hiked up her skirt a little - Let it go as quickly snorted
    And began to moralize - The illusion of sanitation the naivety of strangers - me - Clean substance and empty establishments:
    The FDA - human fucking health services - and Methotrimeprazine

    She lost me instantly which isn’t saying much since I am not that bright or poet enough to capture her intention in a line.
    I could never chronicle her madness or departure. As she continued with livid discourse I began to remember as her voice faded to a whisper in my mind’s eye half listening half not.

    About the filthiness of roaches Hundreds upon hundreds of roaches were exploding from an epicenter of crumbs that lay across our stark counter. When the lights flicked on there was always that split-second Just before that you hoped they wouldn’t be gathered to watch your smile fade to a frown of condition.

    chorus: Filthy cockroaches

    There was always the slow fat one
    Maybe the leader or old eating its last meal before death or not. When the coast was clear we would let company eventually break the threshold of uncertainty and inconspicuously wipe away the mysterious crumbs into our illusion of sanitation.

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