Split-CD/LP 12" w/ 95-C

Release : november 2010 (CD) & december 2010 (LP)

Tracklist :

Mikey Randall

01 I've been working for eleven years and it's so fucked up

02 Kartoffeln Douchebag Sportshoes

03 Chasing the paperboys

04 Sunday morning (acoustic)

95-C

01 Green blood

02 Motel or cell

03 Let’s talk about having weird ideas to conquer the world!

04 Alcohol (acoustic)

Credits : All songs recorded in our rehearsal rooms, then mixed and mastered by Jack Shirley @ Atomic Garden Studio, San Fransisco (CA)

(p) & © Mikey Randall & 95-C 2010

Labels : Truffle Shuffle Records, Shotdown, Crust Caviar, Paranoïa, High School Side Kick

Purchase : CD & vinyl LP 12" available now on our Bigcartel store

Lyrics :

I’ve been working for eleven years and it’s so fucked up

‘Was so far from here with my false beliefs. Kept hard through our common sense, written by another hierarchy. Forced to be used like a machine every fucking single day.

All actors without script, controlled just for economy. Abusing the time of poorest, manipulate citizen, and corrupted by medias, virgin spirits sink in dumb. All actors without script controlled just for economy. Wolves around the little sheep, state of more privatized taxes. I’m over twenty five (over twenty five, unready) and I’m not ready now (time has gone for me now, it’s all done). Step further to the grave (over twenty five, unready now) don’t trade with the old man. As we can live as before, as we stay like nothing’s gone or starting thinking by yourself, don’t support olympic games. Never give my confidence I said but secretly I hoped. Fifteen years later I know, I look like zombie out of tomb. I’m over twenty five (over twenty five, unready) and I’m not ready now (time has gone for me now, it’s all done). Step further to the grave (over twenty five, unready now) don’t trade with the old man, with that old man. Cansados de trabajar, dia tras dia, como maquinas. Usados como ovejas, y estamos hartos. Time’s up for me, time’s up for me. Don’t mess with right intentions.

Kartoffeln Douchebag Sportshoes

Fake it from the signs, bet he’s stronger than a guy. Muscles oversize, old school fashion ‘till he dies. Breaker! Only tight. Breaker! One track mind. Tough guild on a moshing part, selfish never compromise. Breaker! Only tight. Breaker! One track mind. Cross drawn as a holy tab, selfish he will never compromise. Wriggle to defy, so pathetic in the facts. Hurt each other sides. Sport shoes, Karate Dance Style. Breaker! Only tight. Breaker! One track mind. Tough guild on a moshing part, selfish never compromise. Breaker! Only tight. Breaker! One track mind. Cross drawn as a holy tab, selfish he will never compromise.

Chasing the paperboys

Here I’m again with your disc in my hand and I’m thinking about all good memories that I shake in my head, can’t forget it. Stupid things done like all moron punk boys, and I’m laughing again. We don’t know well, not so strange in this hell with these moments. Over there, appreciate this, sticking to fall appart. Over there, appreciate this, my eyes just weaken now. Cheer it up, tear it on, share it. Ready to change what has been done between us. I just wait, I’m just waiting for answers. Jeannot is cool he’s a tiny geek red bear I swear, Brian the railroad employee early awake, Jimbo the little monkey drunk everywhere, Rémi and Fred, one is tall and the other is gay! Over there, appreciate this, sticking to fall appart. Over there, appreciate this, my eyes just weaken now. Cheer it up, tear it on, share it. Ready to change what has been done between us. I just wait, I’m just waiting for answers. For the answers.

Sunday morning

Alarm clock is ringing oh god, so loud in my ears. Just another Sunday morning, a Sunday morning with some beers. I get up and I’m looking for a six-pack in the fridge. Alcohols are calling me and I don’t want to miss that fucking thing. It’s another Sunday morning, a morning with some beers. I don’t care where you are sleeping now, cause I can face my fears. And if you never want to go back home, it’s OK I don’t mind. It’s another Sunday morning, a morning with some beers. A roller coaster twistin’ in my head, so empty bottles are on my bed. And I don’t care about what they say. It’s another Sunday morning, a morning with some beers. I don’t care where you are sleeping now, cause I can face my fears. And if you never want to go back home, it’s OK I don’t mind. It’s another Sunday morning, a morning with some beers. And I’m drinking all alone cause I’m happy on my own and I know that I’m wrong, thinking all my problems are gone. It’s another Sunday morning, a morning with some beers. I don’t care where you are sleeping now, cause I can face my fears. And if you never want to go back home, it’s OK I don’t mind. It’s another Sunday morning, a morning with some beers.