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Photographs +2

by Mischief Brew

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1.
Brother, you know we're all in this alone, Take what you can get, break all but your bones And when they finally ask you "well, what have you done?" Say, "Life is a game and I've won, yes I've won." Say, "Life is a game and I've won!" You gave the asphalt a heave and then looked back at me, Said "that is a word from the wise ones, indeed" When you've been here this long, one day you belong One day you wake up and forget what seemed wrong. As the first day of May, well it quietly passed by, As the bosses still reign 5 to 9 And you curse when I say words like "living" and "wage" You say: "I made my house out of mud, so should they Now the ball field is level--let's play!" I think of the bullets, the blood, and the rage That went in there to stir up the eight-hour day Seems the masters have found themselves new rats to cage And the price for a union is great Well they gave her a raise so they raised up her rent She says "I'll never burst from this box that I'm in" But she's too scared to talk, to step off the sidewalk So she shrugs it all off as the luck of the draw And the labor you cry that's been robbed from your kind With dirt on your hands and sweat in your eyes If the fortunate son really wants to eat dust, Well. I'm sure there's a good chance he'll be hired There's a million stories of the crimes left to rot But I never will raise as long as I sleep on the job So, you say "brother, you know, we're all in this alone Take what you can get, break all but your bones And when they finally ask us well what have you done?" Say, "Life is a game and I'm done!"
2.
So I got a stack of tapes Got a name and maybe date They're gonna be worth something someday That is, if I pop that song, Just about three minutes long 'Bout how you done me wrong Or make the outrage safe And if before my time I decide to take my life You can take these treasures And pull them up into light Make every song a gem Take every one of them Release a collection of cacophonic hits And remix and remaster my disasters All first-draft words and never-before-heard acoustic takes It's yours From the shoebox to the online store Bury me in analog Pull the reels up Nearly burned and water-logged And release it They bought it, you sold it Got nothin' for everyone They bought it, you sold it Got nothin' for everyone And when it goes out of print, You could then re-issue it Trade off the publishing rights To the highest bid To a queen or king of pop Sell revolution off It's an investment, man I can't make this stuff up And the brats I leave behind Will party every night And sleep all day 'til five And live the trust fund life And they'll call the radio, Complain and curse and moan 'Bout how everybody thinks It's cake to live this way And my grave will be showered With the latest scent of flower power And the freaks will drive by my street And cry and sing and dream And listen to the new CD Bury me in analog Take the suit and you can have it auctioned off Couple thousand They bought it, you sold it Got nothin' for everyone They bought it, you sold it Got nothin' for everyone Bury me in analog, Every paper that I ever scribbled on Is a treasure Chart-topper, best seller Yeah, it'll be yours to take And buy it and sell it It's all garbage anyway The thieves and the suckers Have all gone out to play
3.
(By Les Rice/Pete Seeger, adapted by Mischief Brew) I've traveled 'round this country From shore to shining shore It really made me wonder The things I heard and saw I saw the weary farmer A'plowing sod and loam I heard the auction hammer Just a'knocking down his home But the banks are made of marble With a guard at every door And the vaults are stuffed with silver That the farmer's sweated for I've seen the fisherman standing Idly by the shore I heard his bosses saying "Ain't got no work for you no more." But the banks are made of marble With a guard at every door And the vaults are stuffed with silver That the fisherman has sweated for I've seen the weary miner A'scrubbin' coal dust from his back I heard his children crying "Ain't got no coal to heat the shack." But the banks are made of marble With a guard at every door And the vaults are stuffed with silver That the miner's sweated for I've seen my people working Throughout this mighty land I swear, we'll get together And together make a stand And we might own those banks of marble With no guard at every door And we will share those vaults of silver That we have sweated for
4.
(Words/music: The Dead Milkmen) I've got a kid, his name is Scott He's going blind and his blood just will not clot The doctors line in rows To stick tubes up Scotty's nose There is the field Where Scotty used to play Until Ortho-Orange Number 42 Was dumped in it one day I think it's so funny, I laugh until I cry Just me and God, watching Scotty die Just me and God, watching Scotty die The chemical plant across the street Leaves off steam that colors our white sheets It's been happening for years Now I'm crying rainbow tears One day my dog went out to play Instead of gray, he came back colored yellow The chemical men said, "Stay mellow" It happens all the time Now Scotty's skin is lime I think it's so funny, I laugh until I cry Just me and God, watching Scotty die Just me and God, watching Scotty die
5.
Gather up ye acorns, child For the coming wintertime Gather up ye acorns Before the fire turns to ice Crumbs, they fall from tabletops Let's round 'em up and fill that pot Gather up ye acorns It's gonna freeze up tonight The woods leave us a treasure Got a map to a merry feast I never weigh or measure I just take all I can see Gather up ye acorns, child For the coming wintertime Gather up ye acorns Before the world turns to white Cause lightning strike the money tree But lucky you and lucky me We gathered all our acorns It's gonna be alright It's gonna be alright
6.
Bring up the reserve What good does it serve down there? I season a dream I wait for the steam and stare out there A turn and a tick Clock-cursing as if it cares As if it's to blame For blowing over the card-house of fate Too late Ah, who needs a clock when the kettle's a'flame? Watch your hands 'round the boiling steam Does sun chase moon, or is it the other way? Watched pot Smash potwatching No longer wait No longer wait Trace the trail of a crack Resting there on your back in peace Wait here patiently Where you'll be counted just like sheep 'Til you fall asleep And as the doors close, your tea grows cold So it's back on the flame But it's never the same I'm standing in line I'm checking the time Too hot to drink So chop me a block of ice We were wasted by a quarter to nine Two in the morning and you opened the wine Friends of mine, may we never run out of time Bring up the reserve Before I kill the nerve and fall asleep Asleep Smash potwatching!
7.
Run child, run away Come around no other day Roll a bed or snap a case Run child, run away Spark it up around the waste And drink until you dehydrate And old world is behind you Another one awaits And every town is different But it all turns out the same So run child, run away Find the lost and found, and trade Dye your hair, shave your face And rearrange your name display And now you're wide awake to start again A day before you find your new best friend All day, you're playing House, War, and Pretend Run friend, from the sea Walk on further up the beach Hope to find somebody's keys Run friend, from the sea Say that all this cannot be Better dig a hole, and dig it deep You say this is your home now It's only been a week But you swear you'll fight with all your might To save it 'til you're beat Then grab a train or hop a bus I'll betcha there's a ride to bum And set up camp beside the bay Another thousand miles away But there's just as much misery afar And you're still the same old burning star And still you turn away, but there you are When you wake up in the morning And the state don't seem the same You're a bomb without a warning You're the singing in the rain When you wake up in the morning To a bad world full of dreams You're a bomb and you're the warning And I'll be seeing you downstream
8.
(Words/music: Ben Hutson) Continental, make a better man of me You sold the words, put us in herds But that'll never set us free My dreams, collecting dust, break down Like the faith I never found And you never helped me up But you always let me down We're supposed to delight in your will While you're stalking your prey Some sort of spit-shine salvation That'll never see the light of day Some friends went to jail Some finally came clean But you slept in sandcastles And woke up in between And clarity came in the spring With salvation waiting in the wings Guesswork and 80 miles You sought sainthood in the ceiling tiles While the messenger was shooting up downstairs But who cares what they said? You contemplated being dead But decided against it After hard drugs and religion An aluminum empire that you built with both hands An upside-down cross and a line in the sand And I still haven't written the rest of the words

about

Exclusive to Bandcamp, this is all the Mischief Brew songs from the split LP with Joe Jack Talcum ("Photographs From The Shoebox"), plus two songs from compilation CDs. The first is "A Peasant's Rebellion" from "The State I'm In" compilation, and the other is a Mancub cover, "An Open Letter To The North American Continent," from the "Mancubbers" tribute.

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released January 22, 2014

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Mischief Brew Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Emerging from the undead ashes of PA punk troupe The Orphans, Mischief Brew started with a scratchy demo tape in 2000 and has since spread the good word of anarchy, hilarity, and rebellion across state lines and even the Atlantic Ocean a few times. We've managed to exist for over 13 years in one form or another by kissing nobody's ass and doing everything ourselves, for the most part. No rules! ... more

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