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Combat Shock

by Tundra Toddler

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1.
Return to the folds Of the barracks From whence you came We're mottled by anger With stumps for tongues When you sashay off your plane Return Return to me Sweep my ashes with your palms Into The Salton Sea I can pinpoint to the date When they riddled your substrate With ill-fitting hats That poured muscle off your face At midnight in the trench Where you danced with your friends You smashed all your teeth With a hammer and cheap gin So rest your weary chin And flutter your eyelids Climbing saliva ropes To the cadaver's limp grin Hair cindered summer grass Head reeling from the hash Every pencil breaks Beneath your failure's sheer mass Return Return to me Sweep my ashes with your palms Into the Salton Sea Hurry back Before the crack of dawn I don't know If there will be much left of me Hurry back Before the night is gone I don't know If we'll recognize your body Return Return to me Sweep my ashes with your palms Into the Salton Sea
2.
GRV RBBRS 04:18
There's this little thing called respect I don't have it because you are in black face Oh everybody who died Everybody who died I used to know who you are But I don't know you because you are in corpse paint Oh everybody who died Everybody who died You are dead Let's keep it that way
3.
Everything we had Everything we had Everything we had You took everything we had And turned our corn into mash Everything we had Everything we had Everything we had Is in your stretch-marked belly And it's making you fat Everything we gave Everything we gave Everything we gave You returned our children With crater-stippled veins Everything we gave Everything we gave Everything we gave Leave us some change So we can buy something for the pain
4.
I don't want to guess where you have been Stifle that crutch that makes an abbatoir of men Please, please, please annul the thread You would have made such a sad old man
5.
Minneapolis 05:06
Brief glimpse of hair Just hair and a flash of earring That's all you left me with I want you so bad I can't even stop Even stop Even stop it now I can't sleep until I see you asleep So safe I need you safe I feel like I know you Images, views from beneath you Ragged breath betraying me As I crane Window pane growing more opaque Every moment of fogged view Is a waste If I could touch God, if I could taste Keep still now Don't move an inch Don't ruin it It isn't fair Nine panes obstructing my touch My prints all over them It's hard to breathe When you turn toward me In your sleep I feel faint and my knees go weak All I want is to hold you But all I have is anonymity Keep still now Don't move and inch Don't ruin it Why can't you be my baby? I'll never leave you Why won't you wake up And look at me?
6.
Venison 03:33
7.
Change your pants There's company coming And you have shit in your pants Can we lend a hand? How about some milk? For the birth of twin lampreys Don't talk back It's a wonder That you can still talk at all Ween your son On a steady diet Of dashed promises You shit your pants And you shit my pants And this whole town's pants So change our pants Into something more comfortable Something to help us sleep You swallowed your jaw In one necrotic swoop Back at Outpost 32 They're giving instructions on how to chew your food Between naps you keep falling down the stairs "That's a right healthy cough," We say, tracing dance patterns upon your face Change your plans You've got a date With the drum fill of an IV drip Stay awake Through a rousing bellow Of flimsy delta waves Call post-haste When her pulse sputters And sticks like a rusty gate Take us out And squeeze a bullet Between our flightless shoulder blades What'll they think When your son's finger Gets bitten by the mouths in your arm So take us out And bash our heads in With cinder blocks of bad news Can we lend a hand? You've got your hands full Of solvent-soaked shamwows Can we lend a hand? We have holes to fill That only your children can fit Can we lend a hand? We have so many hands.
8.
9.
Combat Shock 04:42
I'm worried about my friends They've been laying in the snow Making angels with clipped wings I'm worried about my friends All the balloons they're climbing Sink like razors in red baths I'm worried about my friends And their kids and the kids of their kids And their children's next of kin I'm worried about my friends The garland of daggers and the small Pitter patter of a rocking chair At the end of their lives I'm worried about my friends They never know how to say that They don't know where the minefield begins I'm worried about my friends And their kids and the kids of their kids And their children's next of kin I'm worried about my friends They've been laying in the snow Being scared, spoiled shits I'm worried about my friends All the balloons they're grasping Sink like razors in red baths
10.
Chaosovo! 06:46
Let's learn every language from every jaundiced tongue. Heave me across your stacks of sticky notes What they don't teach you in the children's wildlife guides Is how to replace worn out arteries One withered wrist and one empty wallet Two mumbled vows and two too many platelets I married tufts of wool with the skin still attached Arranged by size they look like broken pots of gold I thrust into the ooze of jungle rot That shows no emotion in it's face Three forgotten uncles and three eye-less aunts Four missing ribs and four razed housing plots There's no reason to be optimistic We buried our baby under the cypress There's no reason to be pessimistic Reload the page and forget about it
11.

about

2012: got divorced, read a suicide note, went to some funerals, learned a lot about overdoses, watched friends get drunk, made an album.

credits

released April 16, 2013

all songs written and recorded by Adam Kozak except (2) by Adam Kozak, Eric Beaudry, and Justin Bard; (3) by Adam Kozak and Justin Bard; (5) by Adam Kozak and Cora Rose Gaulin; (9) by Adam Kozak, Andrew Havens, and Scott Cambo. Additional engineering by Jacob Gaulin. Mastered by Carl Saff.

additional personnel

Cora Rose Gaulin: backing vox on (2) and (3), lyrics and 2nd lead vocal on (5).
Justin Bard: guitars on (2) and (3)
Eric Beaudry: guitars on (2)
Scott Cambo: guitars on (9)
Andrew Havens: guitars on (9)

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all rights reserved

tags

about

Tundra Toddler Northampton, Massachusetts

Tundra Toddler is a splattered smear of chaotic electronics and tense, stormy pop sludge. He uses this idiosyncratic sonic backdrop to explore his obsessions of failing health, addiction, grief, and rape culture.

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