1. |
Dead Tom's Dead
05:21
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The country had me once till I lost its heart,
you know the sounds of the skyscrapers scream so loud.
In my head and through my hands the memories of you billow torch and dance,
seems right now their coming back around again.
I wonder if we could have ever built a home?
Bricked up my doubt, stitched up your soul,
No more ghosts in the attic fading alone.
And I wonder if we could have ever turned this dirt into gold...
Its not being alone that scares me,
no its being on my own.
Its not knowing whats here for me,
But knowing what I left alone.
Show them your teeth,
show me some grit,
and I'll show you.
It lingers on the tip of my tongue and on the point of my nose,
remains like smoke embedded in my clothes.
"Bunch of savages in this town," they've kept me down for far too long,
But these are just lonesome words from a beggared soul.
And I'm just stumbling through life with drunk goggles,
trying to set my sites on tomorrow.
But tomorrow could be a year away and I can't wait around all day
so I'll commit to a new motto.
Its not being alone that scares me,
no its being on my own.
Its not knowing whats here for me,
But knowing what I left alone.
Show them your teeth,
show me some grit,
and I'll show you.
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2. |
Sock of Fleagulls
02:00
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When did the whole god damn human race
decide to piss me off in one day?
I thought we were all in this together?
If I was the raging water
you were supposed to be
my (god) damn-it I'm not broken or lost,
I know where I need to be.
Ten drinks out the door,
One hundred miles from home,
One thousand days on my own.
Dead and dying old days
beneath the tread of my own feet.
Revitalizing those things
that revitalized me.
Don't ever move forward without looking back,
your eyes to the future but your heart in the past.
And if you need to get your footing,
find it in a trusty key.
Or ten drinks out the door,
One hundred miles from home,
One thousand days on my own.
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Otto Mann Chicago, Illinois
Vince - Vocals
Nic - Guitar
Tinkey - Drums
Samuel - Bass
What started
as two acquaintances just coming together to play a house show, quickly turned into four dudes making music in a crowded dank basement in Chicago. Otto Mann is honest, open hearted, quick to temper and occasionally belligerently gushy. We write music for the kids we used to be and the idiots we've now become.
... more
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