Brief Lesbian

by Pairs

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credits

released 23 March 2014
Arranged, recorded, mixed and mastered by Adam McRae (reykjavictim.bandcamp.com)
Vocals recorded by Laura Ingalls.
Guitar: F, Xiao Zhong, Adam McRae, Marcus Hobbs.
Drums: Xiao Zhong.
Vocals: Xiao Zhong, Adam McRae, Tom Lyngcoln.
Synth: Adam McRae.
Programming: Adam McRae.
Lyrics: Xiao Zhong, Adam McRae (I'm sorry to hear your partner wears a hat inside)

A huge thanks to Adam for being so open to the idea and being such a legend about it all. You can check out his music at reykjavictim.bandcamp.com

Bits and pieces recorded at The Chows (Shanghai), Boneyard (Shanghai), Spring Festival Eve (Tianjin) and somewhere in Canada.

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Track Name: Bloodshot (feat. Tom Lyngcoln & Marcus Hobbs)
Bloodshot in a robe
Cumshots on a phone
Swollen closed to the day and reports all alone

There’s a rattle in my lungs at times,
there’s a shutter now in my spine
But I’m just a leaf in the forest and here I can shine

Grafting gaffs to the blood boys
Gripping on to the choice
Of having stale cake and eating it and making nightclub couches moist

Under a grim fucking sky
I drift past this guy
A cloud for a head and a hunch bottle fed
Telling the guy on his right

How he just had a root,
from some low hanging fruit
a hostel wall scrawling, dredded shoeless dawdling
slurring how he’ll never don a suit

Put a box out for the cats
Put out poison for the rats
Put on a feast for the hungry and we’ll see if it changes the way that they act

Put my name on the door
Collect dust on the floor
Put sugar with the salt in the ocean and see what washes up on shore

I saved two days, by taking today
Whilst cops posed for photos after a small town meth raid
What’s more depressing than wearing masks on every solemn street
Is that it’s just a symptom of trying to get paid

With holes in the skin
From an apartment doctor’s pin
strapped pads to my wrist, a flick of a box and a red mark on the chin

Burnt down to an itch
Sewn up by a stitch
Drills in the compound, gas leaks from the ground causing a high fever pitch

Take me to a town
Where the only farewell is a funeral

For jealousy and shame
You got your small amount fame
Light candles in the bathroom with your dick in your hand and put your soiled tissues in a frame

Eye fuck a bartender as she pours
Think buying watered down Tiger all night will get her on all fours
Just as likely as anyone sourcing news from a guy who still listens to The Doors

But it is what it is, now isn’t it?
Petty small jab rolls with a work permit
It’s only a matter of months until it gets easier for us all to admit

That they’ve tied off with their cheap thrill
A walking, talking argument for the contraceptive pill
Whilst I climb this shit storming Everest that I’ve made from this tiny little molehill

Take me to a town
Where the only farewell is a funeral