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The Power of Patrician Upbringing

by Fake Limbs

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    Download includes lyrics sheet (pdf) and back cover (jpg).
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  • Buy Vinyl via BLVD Records

1.
All Fat Guys They Don’t Look All Fat Guys They Don’t Look The Same We’re Done Working Hard We Roll Out Ten Deep A Round N Round N Round We’re Blasting Through The Doors Hair/Eyes/Nose/Face/Waist/Hips/Hands/Feet 4 Am Now That’s A Long Wait Time Isn’t On Our Side Got Our Strategies Through Guamless Babble And Your Stupid Threads Pockets Done Fat The DJ Cold Sucks The Floors Are Sticky These Girls Don’t Matter To Me Don’t Have A Fall Back Don’t Have A Theory Just Have It In A Glass Hair/Eyes/Nose/Face/Waist/Hips/Hands/Feet White Girl Wasted Got Your Swerve On You’re Still Confusing Me I Can’t Stand The Green I Like The Cynar On Me The Green Chartreuse Has Got Ten Glasses Left In It. Hair/ Eyes/ Nose/ Face/ Waist/ Hips/ Hands/ Feet It’s After 5 Now The Sun Is Peeking Out You’re Going Home Alone You Grab A Fun Pack All Fat Guys The Don’t Look///All Fat Guys Don’t Look The Same
2.
Hairwrecker 04:05
3.
Integument 03:28
4.
Dr. Detroit 03:12
Smug Prick Smug Prick Casing twenty years on the scene well heeled and young stood off in the back erasers come handy when alone tempted to lift the curtain knew the school stood up straight recount the bout without witness hicks and fools eyes on your plate recount the bout without witness hit your stride shelve your crest recount the bout without witness in your head and home thereʼs no pride in shy fear of social rank drives you to concoct a new turn for you serves (as) indemnity a fresh coat of paint makes you self contained through steel sleet of your past west egg yowls for truth against the wall you got your cred must you take up every piece of pie a land of garbage cleaned up nice must you take up every piece of pie the other heads built the rest must you take up every piece of pie every bit of progress gets thrown off the bus underneath the guise of “pure realness” keep your points in check like theyʼre estates roll my eyes forever at your introductions roll my eyes forever at your embellishments kicked away the stones once on your path saw you change a tune once through the tunnel everything you feared got brushed to the side cottage industry of high school castes built upon cut lines of insecurity. every word had a turn every call was not made every look had a take every hand was not played every promise had a price every party had its flake short hand never looked good on you came up for air once or twice arms bent back at commitment or excuse there was a camera at every corner
5.
Here It Is Here It Comes A Portrait A Statement A Trophy To A Life Spent Better In A Bag A Portrait A Statement A Trophy Spill It All Out From A Running Mouth A Portrait A Statement A Trophy Argue Onto Nothing Weak Speak Through Holes A Strortait A Tratement A Pophy Ground Out At First ‘Fore You Even Stood What Is Used For Food Built From My Contempt Used To Be Your Fun Til It Blew (up) Don’t Even Look At Me With That Tone Straighten Your Walk And I’ll Roll your Carpet Out But Don’t Even Look At Me With That Tone Confidence Got Blown Never Stopped You Before Don’t Even Look At Me With That Tone Biggest Pity Party For They With The Most Privilege Don’t Even Look At Me With That Tone Your Biggest Triumph Came At Your Friends Expense Loudest Voice In The Room Don’t Know Shit From Fat Meat It’s All For Naught When I Cross The Street When I Hide Behind What The Paper Prints When I Pull Up My Hood And I Creep A Corner Jump Over A Post Anything It Takes Bury My Head In Ten Feet Of Sand Risk a Dive To A Door Never Turn Back Around Blur Off The Edges Shred Every Fact Slip Out Of Your Body So They Don’t Get A Second To Speak. You Could’ve Died At Eighteen (The Bloom Is Off The Rose) Checked Right Out & Leave Us With A Buncha Laughs You Could’ve Died At Eighteen (The Bloom Is Off The Rose) And Not This Sad Beat Played To Make Us Suffer Your Own Built Legend Cobbled From Deceit Your Own Built Legend Porcine Behavior Your Own Built Legend Poisoned By Your Words Your Own Built Legend Better Left On The Bow Your Own Built Legend To Stand Quiet and Erode Storied Failure Cased In Brine Numbed The Gums To Flap Your Jaw How Do You Move Your Heart How Do You Look At The Sky Climbed Out Of Your Well Stepped Out Of Your Light Throw Your Ass Out The Manger Never Haunt My World Again Does It Even Register With Your One Man Show
6.
Walyo 03:18
Saw Your Red Dress In The Snow Felt Your Cold Hands Down The Back Pinned Down Tore A Blackhead Cran-Drink Annoying Clack From The Basement To The Garage Out In The Ferns The Willow Tree Your Friends Have Cared For You Your Friends Have Built A Home Out The Shower Knew Ahead Knew Iʼd Be Late Didnʼt Matter To Me It Was a Phone Call She Wanted You To Be Loved Through The Lines Was A Dawn Realized The Worth Of Your Own Work A Home That Was Never Here She Wanted You To Be Loved I Donʼt Have The Time For That Tree I Just Have The Sound of You and Me Seven Years Walked Through A Door the Longest Hair filled with grey the carpeted stairs lead to a scare she taught you your left from your right a key still worked a smell still lingered voice on the box said a last goodbye a space that had more life than limb she taught you your left from your right strangers filled the halls to show the love that she gave to care and see them through a voice you hear in your dreams non rep replicate Walyo Walyo Walyo Walyo
7.
MC Lyte 04:44
With a Grin That Could Let Go Of Trust With A Grin That Could Sell A Bridge With A Grin That Could Turn Over Keys With A Grin That Could Make A Profit In a Room All Locks Tweezers Pull A Nail Lost Lost A Thought A Glare A Little Rope Some Wrist Stumble Over The Pines Smell Of Wood Ghost Tracks What A Nice Place You Have Born Without A Curse Always Grew With A Curl Knew To Dress My Best With A Grip That Could Pull You Down From Space With A Grip That Could Break A Door Off With A Grip That Could Push The Dark Out Of Light With A Grip That Could Raze The Land In a Room All Locks Tweezers Pull A Nail Lost Lost A Thought A Glare A Little Rope Some Wrist Stumble Over The Pines Smell Of Wood Ghost Tracks What A Nice Place You Have Not Even A Lover Stranded By The Owl Never Been Known For Its Kind Flinging hands, Leather digs, Restraint Leather digs cuts and marks in skin Clean floors, Leather digs no stains Leather Digs through the bulbs that hang. Leather Digs Keep Your Eyes Another World Leather Digs thick circles round the moon When the belt gets in to the hips feel the cuts the cuts to the skin (x5) Lyte As Rock Lyte As Rock Different Hips Lyte As A Rock Lyte As A Rock The Skin.
8.
You All Say Fuck The Cops Til You Redefine The Terms You All Say Fuck The Cops Til It’s Someone Else’s Skin You All Say Fuck The Cops Now Yr Suddenly The Expert You All Say Fuck The Cops Oh Wait This Guy’s Your Friend Kill The Mouth/Sock Monkey Gonna Bleed Cotton Kill The Mouth/Sock Monkey Gonna Bleed Cotton You All Say Fuck The Cops Then You Give Them Agency You All Say Fuck The Cops Til You Turf Out Your Empathy You All Say Fuck The Cops Then You Victimize Your Peers You All Say Fuck The Cops an Obstinate Duh Is Your Crutch You All Say Fuck The Cops But You Shout The Minority Down You All Say Fuck The Cops All Backflips Over Reasoning You All Say Fuck The Cops and Your Privilege Isn’t Checked You All Say Fuck The Cops Now Welcome To The Status Quo Kill The Mouth/Sock Monkey Gonna Bleed Cotton Kill The Mouth/Sock Monkey Gonna Bleed Cotton We Got Ourselves A Case We Got Ourselves A Crew With Bats N Bricks In Hand There’s More Of Us Than You

about

Originally intended to be a concept album about FDR but thematically scrapped due to time, breakdowns, life actions, and hubris.

Special thanx to JSP, GAN, SA, RSW IV, EA, CMS, BLVD, WJD, MG, JSS.

More thanks to our friends and families, JACK BUCK, Coward, Nonagon, Tyranny is Tyranny, Police Teeth, Waxeater, Blizzard Babies, Blasted Diplomats, Shellac, John Grabski III and everyone else who set up shows or let us sleep on/in their floors/couches/beds/bathtubs.

credits

released November 15, 2013

Fake limbs is Stephen Sowley, Bryan Gleason, Mat Biscan and Nick Smalkowski

Gang vocals by Jes Skolnik, Melissa Geils, and Fake Limbs

Recorded & Mixed at Electrical Audio, Chicago, spring/summer of 2013
Recorded by Jon San Paolo
Mixed by Greg Norman
Produced by Greg Norman and Fake Limbs
Assisted by Taylor Hales
Mastered at Chicago Mastering Service
Mastered by Bob Weston

Art & Layout by Paul Hornschemeier
Back cover photo by Fake Limbs
Copyright © 2013 Fake Limbs

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