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1.
I dreamt a hot-to-trot blonde bombshell Built by my brain to bring me love She had a pair of legs I could sink my teeth into a body held tight by a tank that was see-through But something about her face had me laughing Same color as her hair, and just as well-kept a beard that was flow-y and hung to her breasts a beard she could grab, pull apart, and groom flawless And it draped from the middle of her face to the top of her waist We glowed on neon thrones for days and days Someone I could love on and laugh with, well-suited for dreams My pining, I find, is an underlying theme
2.
Bear Hair 1 02:43
This one's for Shane Bennett from my past We were 6 years old when he moved away to his grandfather's in Naperville for reasons mom couldn't explain But I learned about the widow-maker in the closet and the man left swinging from it Some things are best left not discussed; but I must, but I must, but I must This one's for the man outside the White House in Woodstock, IL I filled in on drums that night I wasn't informed of all the skinheads there They dragged him to a place with dimmer lights I saw a 6-on-1 of pain from the back window and I kept my young eyes low Some things are best left not discussed; but I must, but I must, but I must This one's for yet another one of my ex-girlfriends Sorry I wanted to be that small black piece between your teeth that embarrasses you when you hack at a smile I know that you're trying And I don't know a thing about the new you, but I know that we're both okay Some things are best left not discussed; but I must, but I must, but I must
3.
You're a human thrift store Filled with underwear and socks Holding it all in each time you talk There are misguided Time Lords The last of their kind are constantly Shang-Haid Teaming up on decades left behind Build up Vegan empires Add that to your title; twigs and leaves Will basically help you continue breathing You've got guilty pleasures Buried in your Sophomore CD case Worried that your rep will be debased And you shart on my beliefs Like I'm human boxer-briefs Your cloacae is cavernous, and it's all I can see And your superficial plunders Into identically-dressed lovers Are not even worth noting in electric diaries You'll ignore what's important Like your insides and overall purpose Like making people happy instead of jealous You get target practice By judging in the aisles of crowded malls Just be shameless for 2 seconds, that's all And you shart on my beliefs Like I'm human boxer-briefs Your cloacae is cavernous, and it's all I can see And your band with an awesome band name Is not unlike The Crying Game You seduce me with the music, but you're all dicks underneath And I am an entertainer And besides that, I am nothing There's a hollowness in what I do, and that hollowness is haunting But if I can make you laugh, then this will never be a waste I don't care if you're laughing at me or with me, The smile is on your face And if you think you're too hip for me, then I'll probably agree And eject you from my lifestyle and move on and on with ease 'Cause your approval is a mud-vat and I am not a doormat I could throw you at the stars, but it isn't worth my arms
4.
Mature 05:13
Mature, mature, mature With controlled adult allure Do I age like warm Coke? Do I age like cheap jokes? I'm not sure I'm mature I'm scared of fame We spread filth on available names But the grown men I've seen are content with their being They're secure, they're mature I'm told, "Be yourself, just don't weird out anyone else" What if sections of me don't make others happy? Failure, immature You know you've been their too Two choices presented to you: Filter your breaths, or make love to your left of center What was yours? If your choice was the first, you'll be assigned a social nurse Whether you're talking thick books, or being strange to get looks, don't be sure you're mature But if your choice was the last, Your soul's developed fast You've grown into it well, and I'm jealous as hell I'm admiring, and I'm trying We are so many people each day We play so many people each day Baby, we change You are so many people each day You play so many people each day Baby, you've changed
5.
I keep my baby in a hearth to wait I keep my baby in an insulated crate I keep my baby in a high-security safe that's ironically built from my own insecurities I was a boy in a musical box I was a snowglobe, shaken by my exes 'til the song season stopped And I was promptly dropped, and chopped 'n screwed Like every rap album fueled by Codeine and golden tooths I love you, Dear Insect Sincerely, Windshield I turn everything I love into shimmering, chandelier tears I wanna tell him, "If you think you can talk to her like that, you're wrong." But I'm not. And all I've got is some song I was a boy in a musical box I was a snowglobe, shaken by my exes 'til the song season stopped And I was promptly dropped, and chopped 'n screwed Like every rap album fueled by Codeine and golden tooths Do you feel Do you feel Do you feel Do you feel too much?
6.
Work 03:50
The speakers at work blast 101.9, The Mix loops adult-contemporary bleeps and blips the pop-music equivalent of 8-bit Atari attempts at melody while I work, work, work work out why this cheap-excuse-for-a-cougar needs a face-filling syringe and a tinge of liquor binge to keep her convinced she's the shit and keep the young guys interested and pussy-whipped And now this 5-year-old kid needs a cosmetic mole removal from his face to avoid Enrique Iglesias jokes pouring out of school-kid's throats, harmonious cajoling notes "Oh, the trauma, the trauma!" Now this TV-reporter may have malignant melanoma She's slipped into Amy's pathology slot unseen, but not forgotten embedded in the bits and little baby bullshit parts of my heart I dream of strangers Work, gotta age and mature with my work, gotta make damn sure of my work, sit upright, muscles tight, eyes alert, and it works, and it works, but it's work, gotta age and mature with my work, gotta make damn sure of my work, where the nurses and patients all flirt And it works, when an emergency's urgency drives the doctor berserk when you hear, "It won't stop bleeding!", insert squirts while I try to decipher the hurt and I don't, but I get it; I'm not pain illiterate But I'll never get the decimated severance methods or even how to make a sink look clean I mean, Jesus H. Christ on a cracker, I'm no natural-born slacker But I suck raw ass at cleaning everything, anything seen But the files have this efficiency gleam and I leave the friendliest of messages on various machines and my voice is now known by what seems to be Glenview's entire retired community yeah, that's me I spat it ugly for Helen and Murray they're both in their 80s, Medicare card copied I said, "Both are benign, and you're fine." And it's work, gotta age and mature with my work, gotta make damn sure of my work, sit upright, muscles tight, eyes alert, and it works, and it works, but it's work, gotta age and mature with my work, gotta make damn sure of my work, where the nurses and patients all flirt
7.
Hermit Crab 02:43
I drive a small-scale Lotus Elise and it rides the grooves in all my LPs I have no need to gauge my speed I use the RPM 45 or 33 And though my instincts make me want to go out, I melt into the seatbelt and never leave the house I have a tomb built into my room They say you can't take it with you...well, I'll find out soon I'll bring Tea For the Tillerman and a beat-up copy of Abacab actual passion and a pop smash-and-grab And though my instincts make me want to go out, my feet are stuck in the mud of the grave of my house It's like they took their mouths and shoved them in my head and now, I take all my heroes to bed To all of them: I sent your dentures back and now I'm on my own
8.
There's a path, lined with pines, and some spray-painted steel and some brains, like bikewheels, humming hornets There are piles of notebooks and textbooks and things ripped by teachers from lockers with no lock upon them I see beads on our rosaries feed on our memories each prayer correlates to my conscience Teach me each nuance of God teach me how to sin right Show me the face of the Virgin Mary wash with the water of her mercy while I lie in the parking lot bleeding the brutal youth Costello's preaching Show me the face of my old math teacher took us to church and taught us proverbs then he cheated on his wife with a colleague while we watched some Spanish movie I see John hugging her on the steps of the church we learned much about love, but not the right kind I see me, between the trees, with a menacing look lost in thoughts way too grim for the 8th grade Like, "How many miles in the sky must I be to be happy, while air-loss kills thinking? And at that high altitude, could that new bloodless brain hold no guilt?" Show me the face of Jesus smiling not the ones where he's nearly dying Christ, I love all you've done and stated but your double-edged sword's too serrated Show each phase of my social slumber when I loved antique counter-culture please don't stop this song in its tracks I know it's rambling; let me point the point back Let me point the point back So I'll look him in the feet and I'll tell him that I can calm down But I'm stapled to defacement of desks and I can't stop now and the best little thoughts will arrive when I circle the school so to make sure the messages project, I need bigger tools When I write, "Fuck it, you'll fly just like I am when without, and believe me, I'm going and gone with no ripcord allowed!" So I hope that these markers dried so tight to the bricks so that when this building's torn down, the sentiment sticks The sentiment sticks it'll always exist the sentiment sticks it'll always exist and with every second replaying every day, it's hard to live like this
9.
Bear Hair 2 05:39
I've got this bear hair beard growing thick from the eyes, roof of my mouth, and ears and I feel like I've had at for "this-many-dog-years" Lately, I've been 2 tomorrow, I'll feel 82, feeling like my head Bluetoothed youth skin thickens and blood-cells reach Heinz-heights sketch artist composite pegged onto a Lite-Brite God bless my shiny architect zoom out to the marionettes Number 2 will hold my Village hostage and the role switches every single time I enter and exit a room and I won't control me anytime soon the salt of my tears once did wonders for my acne but now it just gets soaked into the spiny ivy Cut down on my hygiene, and I develop jungle-musk child-like monster drawing bearing long hair and thick tusks TUSK, from the back TUSK, from the cheek TUSK, from my forehead three more wherever nature wanted Dear Grace, I'm feeling like the Lady in the Fireplace caught like the Doctor in the cytoplasm of Time-Space and like her, I waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and you never came I waited and you never came I waited and you never came, grace I waited and you never came I waited and you never came, grace I waited and you never came I waited and you never came, grace I waited and you never came I waited and you never came, grace I waited and you never came and now he's got these easy, delicate, persuasive hands Thinks he's got her figured out I'm dying if he does I've got no service and a network cable's unplugged I'm on my twin bed my feet can touch the floor bear hair beard on my chest and I'm crawling on all fours I waited and you never came Some things are best left not discussed; but I must but I must but I must
10.
I once met a Wiccan witch on a bus She said she liked the way I sang my hymns about Jesus In the back with my face on the glass and a selfish present in a plastic bag I told her I've been a wicked child I have sins that I've left simmering and unreconciled She took my hand and her ginger face lit and the tire-fire flares as we drive past it She said: "I cast a spell and my boyfriend came clean. I weave these winds like some spiderweb-ceiling. And I can break you. I can root around the goo you ooze. And I can break you. I can, but I won't." So I just quit my band like I'd lost 20 pounds Ms. Davis drove me out to see some psychic out of town My face wore a look of alarm With a tape-recorder in my trembling arms She told me more about me than even I know I was in a pool of my own tears when it came to a close She took my hand and her ginger face lit As my memory transformed it She said: "I cast a spell, and my clients come clean. I weave these winds like some spiderweb-ceiling. And I can break you. I can root around the goo you ooze. And I can break you. I already have." She looked me dead in my filmy face, and she said: "Anthony, you've got grace living inside of you. And if you pick up every dream you've ever dropped, it walks protectively behind you. You're built from love, but you've never learned to love yourself, so right now, you can't fully love anyone. But that'll change. My child, I swear it will change." See, I've been building this place of worship for so many years, you'd think it'd be complete now But there's this gaping hole that's staring it leaves just enough room for every stone to fall down And every compliment I get soaks in the rocks before I actually believe it I'm suspicious of my best friends; it's stupid, I know And her stare stings in my eyes, just like the crusties Jennie picked out in the morning And I realize I miss her so bad, just like the old Gerry's performing I miss digital camera sound-recorder-function albums Committed by a campfire I've missed Lui's basement I miss practice, what did we fight about anyway? I miss Oscar's list of schemes, and I miss Shane and the way that he ate paper I miss John and his 2 brothers and our songs and how we'd table them for later I miss loving Lauren Venlos in a way that no one ought to when they're that young And screwing it up I miss Albert Minzer I'll never forget you, ever Because, sometimes at night, your face is all I can see I've known witches in my life They've taken magic and strewn it on my days like garnish I've spent so many years entrenched in crippling doubt And thanks to them, it all can vanish And thanks to me! And thanks to me! Because I'm beautiful enough to stomp these nightmares out and finally start behaving And now I'm shaving Let's hope the hair comes in slow

about

At this time, The Island of Misfit Toys were:
Anthony Sanders
Julia Bard
Kamila Glowacki
Mark Jaeschke
Evan Loritsch
Lui Macatual
Jonathan Mondragon
Danny Radovanovic

credits

released June 28, 2011

Released by Tandem Shop
TS - 007
Produced, Mixed, and Mastered by Chris French
Front and Back Cover Art by Kayla Koch
Inner Sleeve Art by Evan Loritsch

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The Island of Misfit Toys Chicago, Illinois

I Made You Something

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