Entry​-​Level

by BONE BATS

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04:41
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10.

about

recorded may-june 2014 at pilam in west philly. mixed at drexel's studio b in june 2014. dan wrote these ten songs between 2012-2014.

outta free downloads? use this: mediafire dot com/download/dlkxz8emca6eqhl/Entry-Level.zip

credits

released 05 July 2014

BONE BATS is:
dan parshall: guitar and vocals on all tracks, bass on 2, 4, 6, 7, 8
alex temme: drums on all tracks, vocals on 1, 2, 4, 6, 10; bass on 5, 9
andrew ciampa: bass on 1, 3, 10

featuring:
erica belfie, jm conway, and lola cohen: vocals on 4, 8

mixing/most engineering: christian hassler
mastering: pat loundas
cover painting: liv losee-unger

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Track Name: Quarantine the Pabst
I know something you don't, after you told it to me yesterday.
Cars and cops are not real, nothing's as real as basketball.
I live in a time trap where my software never gets updated.
I got so many temporary tattoos, I forgot I had real ones.

The set of all sets is the empty set.

I don't get out of bed for anything less than a pataphor.
I'll let slide everything said about me til there's nothing left to misconstrue.
I will drink to forget everything I said while I was drinking.
I will drink to forget everything you said, you said:

The set of all sets is the empty set.

Punch me in the mouth, punch me in the face, punch me now.
Punch me in the face, punch me in the face now.
Track Name: Cash Bone
I got another text from my dog again, he wants to know if maybe he can cop a gram (or two).
Dropped acid but thought it time to lift base, drinking Drano tends to make my little belly race (away).
Got tired, poured my glass out into the sink, went to go ice fishing on a skating rink (fell through).
Caught a salmon airman trout but I caught a cold, drained the lake so I could let my feet soak.

Come on. A broken leg or broken wing or chance to move on.

Bleached asshole but he dyed his hair, see the seapunk band wearing band underwear (no tattoos!).
Lit an s, caught a train while heading west, shocked I didn't end up needing a bigger net.
Selling tickets, selling tokens, selling candygrams, sold my wallet to a better-looking salesman (great deal).
Wrote some letters to a cutie at the pharmacist's, no reply but I guess they were anonymous ("were").

Come on. A broken leg or broken wing or chance to move on.
Track Name: Ghost Channel
Are my convictions too vague for you to see?
Can I take your struggle and make it about me?
Will you let me desecrate your symbols with impunity?
I haven't felt like enough of a victim today.

I'm gonna start shit and get away with it like always.
I'll "further the discourse" and make it all worse saying anything.

Don't police my thought-policing! It's for your own good.
I can't believe what I'm hearing: my word is not god?
Your opinion is worth millions. We appreciate your call.
If you want to hear more options, mash the keypad with your palm.

Are my convictions too loud for you to meet:
Platitudes and slogans I learned to repeat?
My faceless corporations are the right ones.
I'll vote with my money, it's all I got.

Relax, and pattern-match. Ignore the meaning and find the strawman to attack.
Mentally entering all I don't understand as my enemy.

No one asked for your opinion! It contradicts mine.
You're all open targets! Mess with me and cross the line.
Your opinion is worth millions. We appreciate your call.
If you want to hear more options, throw away your goddamn phone.
Track Name: Fake Science Monthly
I thought when I came home for Christmas, my bed would feel just as warm;
I'd sneak some box wine with my brother and it'd be just like before.
So we drank and played Gamecube in the basement
and I forgot why I used to hate him.
But all my things were inside boxes and I noticed it was cold out.
My parents move out in the spring so where do I call home now?

I went to see some high school friends, the winter drive was wonderful.
I came feeling nostalgic but just left feeling uncomfortable.
Was I ever content
if I don't like my friends?
I told you, old friend, when I saw you that I missed you so much;
That's a lie, I haven't even thought about you once.

Maybe my standards are too high;
But if I don't feel safe, then where am I?
Track Name: Never-Ending Sass Equation
Stop please, handing
all this future trash to people you don't know.
Busy, visibly
jerking off to all the thoughts in your own head.
Don't see human beings,
only obstacles to where you're going.
Sidewalk's bike cops
giving tickets to the safer community.

No need, data freaks,
I've got the free will to buy whatever's on tv.
Blindly selling me
manufactured needs that I can't live without.

Corporations made up sex to get you to buy things and, aw, damn, it's working.
Track Name: Weed Jeans (Jazz Cords)
There are no sheets on my bed so I guess I'm sleeping here tonight.
The subway doesn't run this late.
At least I can sleep on your couch and maybe we can get high,
I feel like I'm in the right place.

I watch him dump out the ash and rub it into his pant leg,
I wonder when he started doing that.
I see myself in a year and I got a vision I can't shake:
My grey denim streaked with black.

It sneaks up.
I feel numb.
No feeling.
Am I dead?

No, (or at least I hope so).
Track Name: bonebats.bandcamp.com
Human kitten at the human vet, looking over your shoulder til you strained your neck.
Gave my apples to a passing crow, kept the doctor away because I didn't go.
Indie record on a too big head, treat 'em all like they're customers instead of friends.
Smoking fake weed from an iced tea can, host a show at your house but don't pay touring bands.

Find us online: bonebats.bandcamp.com
Track Name: Baby, You Can Extend My Metaphor
I knew my way around your body
like I knew my way around the trains in this city,
which is to say,
with educated guesses, I could do OK.

I traced the Orange Line down your spine
with that same fragility like my first subway ride;
and as the train suddenly lurches I stumble, but act like it's on purpose,
hoping you don't notice just how secretly nervous I really am.

I remember the first time you slept in my bed,
(I think this was before I'd even bought my own tokens yet)
and I was scared,
I don't know why, weren't we way past this point by then?

...and the hours it took for me to run my fingers across your skin,
drumming along your ribs at maybe .5 bpm,
waiting for it inevitably: when you would say "go the fuck to sleep,"
and push me out of the bed,
or roll over away from me,
or just do nothing,
and wait for me to get the hint,
but instead we kissed.

I remember breathing in your hair
so deeply that for a moment I understood why shampoos had their
own aisle in the supermarket.
I understood marketing majors.
I understood brand loyalty.
Track Name: Jesus Could've Gotten Into Any Frat He Wanted
Many in the hands of the few—
what box can we put you into?
Combed, culled, and cataloged away,
don't start, there's nothing to say.

'cause here's what's alright to think,
and here is what bands can play.
Look good when you're throwing up in the sink.
Look good when you're standing next to the keg.

'cause who'd know you're here
unless you miss every set
taking pictures upstairs
to document time that you missed?
Track Name: Selfie Destruct
Sometimes this body feels like a curse,
an abstraction of what I really am,
a clean input with skewed output,
each turned thought and best-laid plan.

Eating dirt and drinking puddles
like I feel like I deserve
isn't gonna help me feel like less of a mess
unlike crumbs and tap water can. It's too real.

It's too real to feel this far away.
It's too real to feel this far away.

I'll put a match up to my draft card,
greet empty symbolism with its twin.
it's great practice for our greetings
and rhetorical questions.

I want a new start with new family
and new friends and a new bookshelf.
I think I'm happy with some wholesome interests
but wholesome and lonesome just sound too alike. It's too real.

It's too real to feel this far away.
It's too real to feel this far away.

Where do I get off feeling ignored?
What have I done to earn that right?
I can hear your footsteps upstairs
but you might as well be miles away.